Perfect Insanity
by xxxsaltinexxx
Summary: Deidara, Hidan, and Itachi each suffer from different disorders, and are currently patients at a hospital. They are released from the hospital, and sent to live with guardians to help assist in the recovery process. SasoDei, KakuHida, and KisaIta. Rated M for violence, disorders, mild gore/violence, and sexual themes. Please read and review :3
1. Chapter 1

Deidara had been up for almost twenty four hours, but the sleep deprivation had yet to get to him. Underneath his eyes, the skin was purple, almost as if he had been bruised. Most likely, though, it was from malnourishment and sleep deprivation. He stayed as still as he could, and let his golden blond hair fall over his shoulders so that it covered the socket that once belonged to his missing eye. Now, only one azure eye was left, and it focused on its owner's feet. Deidara was dressed, made up, and ready to go out, but he didn't actually have anywhere to go.

Instead, the blond sat curled up on his bed, knowing it was the best way to stop the hunger pangs that refused to stop sweeping through his body. He hadn't eaten anything for almost two days, and after being unable to starve himself for almost a year, he had lost all of his progress; his weight had shot up, and his self control had plummeted. It wasn't fair. He hated how useless his body was, and how it refused to listen to what he wanted. He wanted to be thin, but any amount of food would make him balloon. If he so much dared to look in a mirror after eating, he would only feel utter contempt and self loathing. And while he starved himself, and hated himself, his friends ate without any problem. Itachi didn't eat much, but his self control was far beyond Deidara's. But Hidan ate all of his own food and most of Deidara's, but never gained an ounce.

Deidara looked down at his body, unable to see that he was all skin and bones. For him, it wasn't enough. He needed more. Slowly, he began to enjoy the sensation of starving. He tried to pretend that each growl of his stomach was a little bit more fat being burned off of his body. The longer he starved, the more he'd lose. Every time he saw himself, he was disgusted. There was still so much progress that he had to make, but it seemed like the lower his weight dropped, the fatter he'd become.

Unlike his friends, he was fantastic at hiding his disorders. He put cuts on his body at the right times, and he always made sure to act like an egotistical, obnoxious teenager whenever there were other people around. Since he always had a cocky smirk on his face, they never suspected anything was wrong. Hell, even the nurses thought he had improved considerably. Which, on the surface level, was true. He _looked_ perfectly fine. But deep underneath his appearance and made up personality, he was nothing short of insane. Or, at least that's what the medical papers he received every once in a while suggested. Deidara supposed he could buy that story. After all, he had heard that the best thing to do with insanity is just embrace it.

What he couldn't buy was the idea that said insanity wasn't his fault. The doctors talked about depression, chemical imbalances, and genetic disorders. That was far too complicated, and he was surprised they couldn't see as clearly as he could. It was nobody's fault but his. No matter how much they told him that it wasn't his fault, and that his problems were caused by his body functioning improperly, he knew it was all wrong. It was his own fault. It had always been. That's why he deserved to starve, and bleed, and die. Deidara looked in the mirror, and saw nothing but a disgusting mess. A fat, disgusting, ungrateful mess. How could the doctors deny that? They saw him so many times a day that it should have been hard _not_ to notice.

Deidara groaned loudly, and broke out of his curled up position so that he was laying flat on the bed. He wanted to cut, but they had taken his razors away the minute he stepped into the building. And thanks to Hidan, they kept any potentially harmful object under close watch. For the moment, he had to settle on digging his nails into his wrist. He liked them long, so they dug into his skin with little effort. Unfortunately, he had to make sure they didn't break his skin; if the doctors found out that he was using his nails for self harm, they would no doubt make him cut them. And if they cut the nails off, it would do nothing but lower the blond's self esteem. His nails made him beautiful, and if those were gone, he'd become even more disgusting.

At the moment, though, the couldn't imagine hating himself any more than he did already. But each and every day, he proved himself wrong. It was that initial look in the mirror that he had every morning that sent him in a downward spiral, and by the end of the day, he was usually ready to take his own life. Unfortunately, though, the doctors were always too good. Too prepared. He went to bed without a chance to kill himself, and it only made him loathe his existence even more.

Deidara was supposed to want help. After a year of being stuck in this hellhole, he was supposed to want to get better and get out. Sometimes, he truly did. But then he remembered how disgusting he was, and reminded himself that he deserved every single second of suffering that he had gone through. He didn't want to get better, he wanted to get out.

Hidan sat in his room, scratching at the scars on his wrist. His silver hair was slicked back so that it was almost flat against his head, and he wore a pair of loose jeans along with an unzippered black jacket. He was bored and hungry, and though he could have gotten up and gotten something from the vending machine, he was too lazy to move. Besides, the owners of this godforsaken place were going to be serving lunch soon, and he knew that Deidara would give him part of his meal; the blond always did.

He wanted to play a video game, or draw a picture, but he knew that was out of the question. The nurses had to supervise most of his activities, and he knew that they would immediately refuse to let him play any shooting games. As far as drawing went, his style was too gorey and brutal for these idiots. So for now, he supposed he was content with trying to mutilate his wrist while thinking of how great it would be if he could grow out his nails and finally break the skin. If he was at home, that wouldn't have been a problem. Hell, if he was at home, he'd be able to stab himself as much as he wanted without anyone giving a rip. It was the God damned school board that had gotten him stuck in this hellhole, and there wasn't a chance of him getting out any time soon.

Unfortunately, his habits were far from normal, giving him the honor of being the most watched patient the facility had ever seen. Nurses were almost constantly on his ass, making sure he hadn't stabbed himself to death, or found a new weapon to mutilate himself with. They thought he was suicidal, and that he would use anything to take his life.

In reality, Hidan simply enjoyed letting the blood flow out of his body and drip onto the ground. There was nothing more fascinating than breaking his own skin and watching his insides come out. He by no means wanted to die, in fact, he wasn't even depressed. If anything, he should have been in a mental facility for being absolutely psychotic. Other than that, he was perfectly fine, according to the doctors. But Hidan knew he wasn't psychotic. He was normal, just like the doctors, and the nurses, and anyone who didn't have to spend their lives wasting away in this God damned mother fucking mental hospital.

Hidan cursed loudly, and scratched even harder at his wrists. Any frustration he had, he always turned into self harm; he had no intention of hurting anyone else, and he loved the pain. Without even thinking, he took his hand and slapped himself hard across the face. A stinging sensation bloomed across his skin, and he smiled. They could take all the weapons in the world away from him, but he still had his fists. He'd punch, claw, pull, and twist the life out of himself, and there wasn't anything they could do to stop him.

Looking up at the clock, the silver haired boy realized that it was practically time for lunch. Giving himself a firm punch in the gut, he smirked to himself, hopped out of bed, and made his way to the cafeteria. Though he loved food, he hated meal times. Everyone was always so...depressed. It just wasn't his style. Sometimes, he thought he would prefer to be in a nut house; that way, he could be all by himself, and the other inmates, as he called them, wouldn't be able to ruin his mood.

Itachi sat at his usual lunch table, listening to Deidara blabber on and on, while Hidan stabbed at his lunch. As Deidara talked, Itachi tied his long, black hair into a loose ponytail. Then, he looked down at himself to make sure he looked decent. A black dress shirt and black skinny jeans were professional, compared to most of the people in here. He looked back up at the blond, and pretended to focus on what he was saying, but ended up watching Hidan try to pry his skin open with a plastic knife. These were the only two people he could tolerate, out of the dozens of other patients that were currently in the hospital. The fact that they were the two least stable teens there didn't matter one bit to him; as long as they didn't force him to speak, they were fine.

Deidara could spend hours talking about nothing, and the Uchiha didn't mind pretending to listen. It gave him something to do, and sometimes the boy turned out to be mildly amusing. Hidan, on the other hand, was too busy trying to stab himself to force any words out of his friend. He liked Itachi because he could complain to him, and the boy never told him to stop.

The other patients asked him all sort of questions, tried to pry answers out of him, and would never leave him alone. They looked at him with pity, despite their own desperate situations. Unlike them, he was perfectly fine...he just hated talking. It was to the point where it had completely destroyed his ability to go out in public, or get near any sort of remotely social situation. It had crippled his ability to communicate, as well as his ability to function as a normal human being.

Itachi couldn't pinpoint exactly when or why it had started, but it was a disease that had followed him for years. Perhaps he had managed to block it out, and now only focused on the disease itself. At thirteen years old, he stopped using full sentences. Even with his family and closest friends, he'd speak in with as few words as possible, and absolutely refused to have a full conversation. Now, at eighteen—almost nineteen—he couldn't remember the last time he had spoken more than three words at a time. He knew, for a fact, that he hadn't spoken in two weeks, despite all of the pushing and prodding from the nurses.

Along with his inability to communicate, severe depression destroyed Itachi's will to do anything at all. Before he had been pulled from high school and thrown into the hospital, he was on track to be the class valedictorian. But after a severe wave of depression hit him, he nearly failed most of his classes, and would be lucky to graduate at the rate he was going.

Though his parents were disappointed beyond belief, the Uchiha didn't give a rip. Unlike his friends, he didn't let his illness destroy his body. He didn't slice himself open like Hidan, and he didn't starve himself like Deidara. His method of punishment was a more subtle, harder to trace one. Rather than physically, he destroyed himself mentally. He let his thoughts consume him, and kept his emotions bottled up. It hurt, which only encouraged him to continue. He punished himself by not speaking; that way, he couldn't release the pain or get help from others.

Itachi had rules that the nurses didn't know about, and that's what kept him going so far without any "progress", as they called it. There were three of them, and they were very simple, very effective. No speaking, no self forgiveness, and no pride. With those rules, he could effectively build up his walls against the nurses, and the doctors, and the therapists. They didn't understand, and they didn't need to. As long as they left him alone and let him live in his own version of reality, he was perfectly content. His self punishment had destroyed his ability to sleep properly, but that was fine. That meant more time thinking, and more time scolding himself. They tried to give him pills to stop these thoughts, but Deidara had shown him how to hide them, or vomit them back up when necessary. He didn't want to get better. He wanted to stay bottled up, safe, alone, and hurt.

The Uchiha almost sighed, but he hated any noise that came from his throat. Instead, he settled on staring at Hidan eat the rest of Deidara's lunch, while the blond looked at it, wishing he could allow himself to eat it.


	2. Chapter 2

After lunch, Hidan was pulled into his room by one of the nurses, who kindly requested that he sit down. She was a plump, young woman who had been there even longer than Hidan had. As soon as she was sure that he was settled, she sat down across from him.

"I know this may be a lot to take in, but I'll go slow in case you have any questions," she began, giving him that usual sickly sweet smile. If he had the chance, he'd smack that look right off of her stupid face.

"Go for it, lady," he grumbled. The faster he got this over with, the faster she'd leave. She was the thing he could stand the least about this fucking hospital. Every second with her made him want to cut a little too deep so he'd pass out and stay that way.

Ignoring his curtness, the nurse proceeded to speak. "The doctors have decided that you are stable enough to be released from our facility." She stopped, and waited for a response.

Hidan looked at the nurse like she was crazy. "What the fuck did you just say?" he asked, eyes wide and crazed. He couldn't believe what his ears had just processed. He was...leaving? When the fuck had they made that decision?

"Hidan, you're going to need to watch your mouth," the nurse said with a sigh, but quickly brushed it off. He was improving, so she didn't want to push her luck. "You're going to be released in a few days," she repeated.

"...For real?" Hidan managed to say. He knew, and everyone around him knew that there was no way he should be going out on his own, especially not at this stage in the game. Just yesterday, he had managed to slice himself open with his fingernails. At this point, he was just getting clever; he didn't stop the self harm, he just stopped getting caught.

"We'll have your usual medications prepared for the next few months, as well as a few new ones that we'd like to put you on. That, and—"

"Look, lady, I don't need any goddamn happy pills. The kid that really needs them is that fucking—"

"_Hidan_." The silver haired man shut his mouth, not wanting them to change their mind on his release. He wasn't going to push his luck, either. "We're giving your guardian a plan to make sure you two are up to date on your therapy sessions, and how the household should function overall," the nurse explained.

Wait...guardian? "I...don't have any parents," Hidan said slowly, as if the nurse, who had been dealing with him for almost two years, had forgotten that. "Besides, I'm nineteen fucking years old, what makes you think I need a goddamned babysitter?" he spat, narrowing his eyes at the woman, who involuntarily took a step back.

"Hidan, I'm sorry, but you're still not considered completely recovered. Until you can live on your own without presenting danger to your well being, you are going to have to have a guardian preside over you at all times."

"That's fucking bullshit if I ever—"

"Look, Hidan, you're not going to sneak your way out of this one. You're either staying with him, or with us. So, do us a favor and take your pick."

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid? Of course I'm going with him," Hidan said with a smirk. "Anything that keeps me from having to come back into this hellhole, y'know?"

The nurse sighed heavily. "Hidan, you know you're going to have to clean up your act before you meet your guardian. He is a well respected, proper gentleman."

"Yeah, yeah, lady. Are we done here?" Hidan asked.

Without saying anything, the nurse simply shook her head and left the room. This kid was going to be a handful no matter where he went.

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Hidan bolted into Deidara's room, swinging the door hard enough for it to slam against the wall and shoot back closed. Itachi was already there, and the two stared at him as he danced around the room, laughing and swearing cheerfully to himself.

"I'm getting the fuck out of this hellhole!" the silver haired boy exclaimed, jumping around the room some more before finally collapsing onto Deidara's bed. "Jashin damnit, life hasn't been this good for a while," he said, swinging his legs wildly as he spoke.

Surprisingly, Deidara didn't look dismayed in the least. Hidan had expected that he would be at least slightly jealous, and for a minute, he had felt bad about bursting into the room so suddenly and bragging about his surprise release. There was no way in hell the blond would be getting out any time soon, no matter how much weight he gained.

"That's great, un," Deidara began. "They talked to us after lunch, too. I guess we're all getting out, un," he said softly, a smile making its way onto his pale face.

At the words, Hidan froze. No, no, no. That wasn't good. He was fine with Itachi getting out as well, but Deidara? What the fuck were the doctors thinking? It didn't take much brain power to see that the blond was doing _horrendously_, and was, at this point, incapable of recovery.

"Fucking awesome," Hidan said, smothering his worry and anger. It wasn't something he could take out on Deidara; if anything, it would make the situation worse. When the blond turned his head, Hidan shot Itachi a look, and got one in return that said they were thinking the same exact thing.

For the next few days, as the three of them packed up their belongings, Hidan couldn't get the idea of Deidara actually being released out of his head. Jashin, he had already thought that these doctors were idiots, but this was a whole new level of stupidity. He _knew_ the blond was going to relapse; after all, the kid wasn't a bit better than when he had been admitted. Sure, he was fifteen pounds heavier, and he took the pills without complaining, but that was because he never had a chance to say "no" and get the nurses to stop. Unlike Hidan, he didn't have a tendency to mouth off, or even cause much of a commotion. Usually, the blond would do whatever it took to keep the peace, even if it meant inevitable self loathing.

Until the three of them were lined up in the lobby of the hospital, Hidan had managed to keep an ounce of doubt that Deidara wouldn't be joining them. Every time he looked over and saw the blond's smirking face, he'd close his eyes for a few seconds to see if he would disappear. Much to his dismay, he never did.

While he was trying to make the boy disappear into thin air, Hidan failed to notice three strangers enter the lobby and sit down directly across from them. It wasn't until the nurse was talking to them, and handing them folders that Hidan had seen hundreds upon hundreds of times that he realized what was going on. "Dei, that's them," he whispered softly, motioning with his eyes to the strangers.

Deidara looked at the three men, and guessed that they all had to be at least ten years older than he. Itachi didn't even seem to be paying attention, and Hidan seemed to be the least thrilled about the predicament. Already, he was swearing to himself about how stupid the situation was, and that it was absolute bullshit that he needed a babysitter. Why release him if he couldn't go out on his own?

"Seriously, this is fucking stupid."

"They said that these guys live near each other, so maybe we can hang out, un," Deidara said, trying to look at the positive side of this. He was getting out of the hospital, so that was great in and of itself. And none of the guardians seemed to be _too_ terrifying.

Itachi, who had been listening to the blond, nodded a few times. "Yes," he managed to force out. It was the first word he had said in days, but Deidara deserved it. On top of that, he turned to give the boy a gentle hug.

Hidan, on the other hand, wasn't one for such sentimentality. As soon as the nurse came over to introduce the three to their guardians, he was up on his feet, bag in hand. The sooner he got out of this Jashin damned place, the better.

Deidara and Itachi, on the other hand, took their time. The blond was afraid of meeting his new guardian, while the Uchiha was afraid of letting his friend go.

When the nurse called them over by name, both of them gave each other wary glances and approached what would soon be their new guardians.

"I know you three would like to get out of here quick, so why don't I get you to your assigned guardians right away?" the nurse said, just as eager to get these kids out of her hair.

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Hidan's eyes widened as soon as he got a close up look at his guardian. Without much of a briefing, the nurse had handed Hidan over to the man and moved onto the other patients. Standing in front of him was a man at least a foot taller than him, tan, stringy black hair, and covered with grotesque scars that looked as if they had been poorly stitched back together. Like the nurse had said, he looked like he had come right out of a high level job, as he was wearing a suit and black tie. The man's green eyes stared down at him, waiting for some sort of response. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbled. The doctors must have been getting a kick out of this; putting a scarred, cutting addicted kid with a man who looked like he had been thrown into a wood chipper and then sewn back together. Some comedians they were.

"What was that?" Kakuzu grumbled, leaning closer in case the boy decided to repeat himself. With at least a foot difference in height, he had trouble hearing the younger man's mumbles.

Hidan shook his head. "Nothing, let's just get the fuck out of here."

Silently, Kakuzu slung Hidan's bag over his shoulder and led him to the car. When they had gotten into the vehicle, the younger man looked his guardian up and down and said "Shit, what happened to you?"

"...Pardon?" Kakuzu asked, shooting the boy a puzzled look.

"You look like you got mauled by a mother fucking bear, dumbass."

"I got into a car accident a few years ago," Kakuzu said simply, irritated that the boy was spending so much time staring at him. It was always like this when he met someone new, and he should have been used to it by now. But to have a stranger's eyes constantly watching him, judging him, feeling pity for him...it was a feeling that never dulled down.

Hidan, on the other hand, didn't even notice the man's discomfort. "Oh, okay," he said simply, before turning his attention to the view out of the car's window.

Save for their brief conversation, Kakuzu didn't make much of an attempt to speak to Hidan until they were in the safety of his apartment. He was wary of the boy getting too excited in the car; after all, he was insane, so what would happen if he tried to grab the wheel and kill them both? The older man shook his head. Perhaps that was a bit of an over exaggeration. After all, Hidan had been behaving much better than he expected.

"Hidan, right?" Kakuzu asked, sitting himself down on the couch.

"Yeah," the boy said with a grin. "What the fuck's your name, dumbass?"

Oh boy. No wonder this kid wasn't allowed to live on his own yet. "My name is Kakuzu," he said as calmly as he could manage.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll remember it," Hidan said, talking mostly to himself. "This is a pretty nice place you've got here, dumbass," he said, looking around the apartment. Everything was organized and clean, as if it was hardly ever touched. Houses like this sometimes made people anxious, but Hidan enjoyed the structure. "Jesus, you must have a good job."

"Kakuzu. And yes, I do."

"What do you do?"

"I'm the vice president of the city's main banking corporation," Kakuzu said, a bit of pride sneaking into his voice. Barely out of college, and he had already shot through most of the company's work positions. It had taken a lot of overtime, blood, sweat, and tears, but it was worth it.

"I worked at a bank once. I counted the money and shit. It was pretty goddamn boring, so I don't know how you do it," Hidan said, a smirk crossing his face.

Kakuzu almost died on the spot. "You...at a bank?"

"I know, I know. I'm not really a suit and tie kind of guy. But you have to do something to get by, right?"

"Did you end up quitting?"

Hidan rose a brow. "No, I probably would have stayed there, if I didn't get locked up in that fucking mental hospital," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't seem that bad, you know." Comparatively, he looked a hundred times better than the other patients who were being released.

"Of course not. All of those pussies were over cautious morons," Hidan spat, narrowing his eyes at the ground.

"How long have you been in there?" Kakuzu asked. Most likely, Hidan's papers would have told him the answer to that, but he had only briefly skimmed them before going to the hospital to pick the kid up. After all, the less he knew, the more he had for conversation starters.

Hidan frowned. "Almost two fucking years."

Kakuzu's mouth fell open before he could stop it. What the hell had the kid been doing there for _two _years? "...For what?!" he asked, much more forcefully than he had intended. Though he didn't know much about Hidan, he couldn't even begin to imagine how he had survived with all of the doctors, the tests, and the therapy sessions for two whole years.

"Depression and suicidal behavior, dumbass," Hidan said with a shrug. "I don't know where they came up with that shit, but they clung onto it like their lives depended on it."

"Have you tried to kill yourself?"

"Fuck, no! That's just Jashin damn stupid," Hidan grumbled, honestly offended by the implication. He didn't want to die by any means, and no amount of talking would get that through the therapists' heads. "I just make flesh wounds. It's no big deal, but they flipped a shit every time it happened"

"Let me see," Kakuzu requested. Might as well see what he was going to be dealing with, right?

"You won't freak?"

"I've have a decently strong stomach, Hidan."

Hidan played with the hem of his shirt for a moment, deciding within himself whether or not he was actually going to pull it up and show his new guardian his cuts. Finally, he decided that he might as well, since Kakuzu couldn't send him right back to the crazy house. One deep breath later, Hidan had pulled his shirt off, revealing his torso. The skin had been covered with gashes, some deep, some barely breaking the skin. Underneath the healing wounds, dozens of scars marked his frame, showing where he had tried to carve himself out before. His arms, however, had the deepest gashes. There was nothing lethal there, so he had fun with it. There were no new cuts; only scratches from his nails or eating utensils. The deep wounds had begun to heal over for some time now, and had settled on his skin as discolored scars.

Kakuzu blinked once, then once more, as if the image before him would disappear if opened and closed his eyes enough. He thought his _own_ body was mutilated. What confused him the most wasn't that Hidan had hurt himself, but he could tolerate the amount of pain he was causing his body. With a shaky sigh, Kakuzu shook his head. "You look horrific." Surely, if one of the nurses had heard that, they would have had a heart attack on the spot. He had been given several briefings on how to address his patient, and how to make him feel more comfortable with his body and surroundings, but he already knew that was a load of bullshit when it came to Hidan.

At the comment, Hidan rolled his eyes and scowled. "Jashin, like you're one to talk! You're practically being held together by fucking stitches!" he shot back.

"At least it wasn't self induced, you moron," Kakuzu growled. "What the hell got you into all of this, anyway?"

Hidan couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Didn't you read those Jashin damned papers? I'm depressed, or some shit," he exclaimed, grinning widely at Kakuzu.

"Uhm...I hate to break it to you, Hidan, but I don't see you as the 'depressed' type," Kakuzu said slowly.

The silver haired man looked at his new guardian. "Huh...you're right about that. In fact, the only fucking reason I got locked up was because of that dipshit high school principal who thought I was 'mentally unstable,'" Hidan spat, not noticing that Kakuzu was busy praying from some sort of divine intervention to get him out of his current predicament.

_I can't blame her for that_, Kakuzu grumbled silently. This kid was bat shit crazy, but he didn't seem to be suicidal by any means, despite what his body looked like. "Okay, kid, what's the catch?"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's nothing serious, so don't get your panties in a bunch," Hidan said, laughing to himself after he spoke. "I don't know what the fuck I'm on all these pills for, so I can't help you there. But what I _do_ fucking know is that my religion commands me to cut, and therefore, I must obey!" Hidan exclaimed, waving his marred limbs around as he spoke.

Kakuzu opened his mouth, then shut it again. He tried to say something once more, but only got the same result. Oh, boy. He checked his watch to see how long he had been dealing with this kid. Twenty three minutes. "Your...religion?" he inquired weakly. Really, he didn't want to know.

"Jashinism, you uneducated _swine_. Blood offerings are required every day to please Lord Jashin. So, it's either you or me, dipshit. And I'm sure you don't want me adding any more cuts to your pallet," Hidan explained,

"...You know you could bleed out from that, right?" Kakuzu asked slowly, not sure if his new roommate completely understood the danger associated with his religious habits. "Like, you know...die?"

Hidan shot the man a puzzled look. "You think I'm stupid enough to cut that deep? Shit, I don't need to bleed out to make Jashin happy. Just a little bit of blood will do."

Kakuzu almost told him that his arms said otherwise, but decided to keep his mouth shut. He was going to give Hidan the benefit of the doubt and say that the depth of his cuts had changed over time. Regardless, this kid was insane. "Whatever, Hidan."

"Huh, that's usually when they start screaming," Hidan mumbled to himself. "Unless...you don't give a shit, do you?" he asked, as if he had finally put his finger on the answer he was looking for.

"Do you want the truth?"

"Like I fucking care."

"My job is to keep you alive and stable. I would consider you to be a religious fanatic, but not so unstable that you should be locked up. So, as long as I don't find you dead somewhere, do as you wish," Kakuzu said with a defeated sigh.

"Fuck, seriously?!" Hidan exclaimed, eyes widening. "You mean that, dumbass?"

"Kakuzu," the older man grumbled. Oh, great. "I suppose. But if you need to talk, or something, I'm here, okay?"

"Oh, don't give me all that corny shit. I'll be just fine!" Hidan said, grinning from ear to ear. Geez, he couldn't have gotten off better if he tried.

Kakuzu shook his head as Hidan practically bolted into the guest bedroom. It had been less than an hour, and he already knew that this kid was going to be a pain in the ass.

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Kisame looked over at the Uchiha before starting his car. The nurse had practically dumped the kid into his care before getting the hell out of their way. Out of the three of them, this kid seemed to be the most put together. He looked cynical and quiet, but nothing more than that. Then again, he was supposedly "ready for release", so he guessed the patients were expected to be relatively stable before they were let out.

"What's your name?" the blue skinned man asked, shooting his new living mate a grin. "I'm Kisame Hoshigaki." Before he had even spoken to the kid, he had felt like he had given a bad first impression. He had come right from work, and was still stuck in his coffee stained white shirt and baggy jeans. On the plus side, he had at least kept his hair looking decent, and he had remembered to brush his teeth in the morning.

Rather than responding, Itachi stared at him like he was an idiot. For a while longer, he observed Kisame's face, as if looking for whether or not the man honestly didn't know his name. When he decided that Kisame was clueless, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his license.

"Itachi Uchiha? Huh. Nice to meet you, kid," Kisame replied, taking his eyes off of the younger man to focus on the road.

For a moment, Itachi was taken aback. Why didn't Kisame pry at him for questions, or berate him for not speaking? He had to have been in the hospital for so long that those things became normal to him; the nurses always pushed for him to answer questions, or at least speak. Of course, they were irritating beyond belief, but the Uchiha had forgotten that there were many people that would just leave him be, and didn't give a rat's ass if he talked or not. Itachi knew it was dangerous for him to be left alone with his thoughts, but he found Kisame's carelessness comforting.

It wasn't until they got to Kisame's home that the blue skinned man decided to speak again. It was a small, two bedroom home that was messy but comfortable on the inside. The living room was a bit cramped, but Itachi didn't mind. For now, he had his sights set on the kitchen. He hadn't been able to eat much at breakfast or lunch from pure anxiety at the sudden change in his life.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking about getting takeout tonight, if that's fine with you," Kisame said with a sheepish grin. He couldn't remember the last time he had cooked himself a meal, and he wasn't about to ruin this kid's first dinner out of the hospital. Thankfully, Itachi gave him a nod. "Is Chinese fine?" Another nod. "Okay, awesome."

One phone and approximately twenty minutes later, the two found themselves sitting at the kitchen table, silently eating an order of hot Chinese food.

"So, what did they lock you up for?" Kisame asked in between mouthfuls of shrimp lo mein.

Itachi froze, and just stared at the blue skinned man. He had no idea how to even begin answering that question. He blinked a few times, then hurriedly got up from the kitchen table to grab the folder the nurse had given Kisame. He wanted the words to come out, he really did, but they refused.

When he returned to the table, he expected Kisame to be livid at him not only refusing to answer the question, but leaving the dinner table without any sort of permission. It was the same feeling of anxiety from before he had gotten admitted into the hospital all over again. His father would scream at him for being such a disrespectful brat, and everything would just snowball from there until it turned into an outright fiasco.

Instead, the blue skinned man took the file, opened it up, and nodded slowly. "Interesting. I had a feeling I was going to be with you. Maybe it's because I talk so much, eh?" he said with a wide grin.

At this, Itachi couldn't help but crack a smile as he sat back down.

"I'm going to tell you this straight up, though; you're going to have to talk eventually." Itachi blinked a few times, then nodded slowly. Damn, this guy was already getting on his case. "If you don't want to talk, I can't force it out of you. I can tell, you don't want to get better yet. So just let me know when you do, all right?" Kisame said, trying his best to keep smiling at the Uchiha. The kid's silence made him uncomfortable, but what could he do? He couldn't force Itachi to talk, especially if professionally trained nurses couldn't get him to speak for weeks at a time.

Kisame hoped that the boy was just being smothered, and that some space would open him up.

nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Deidara sat in his new bedroom, waiting—and dreading—for Sasori to call him out for dinner. The redhead said he would cook a meal for him, which already made Deidara anxious because he knew it would follow his meal plan perfectly. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a full meal, especially with somebody watching. If there was one thing he hated more than eating, it was eating in front of someone. He hated how their eyes watched his every move, waiting to see if he would actually eat the whole thing, or if he would throw a tantrum and try to get out of it.

The door to his room opened, interrupting his thoughts. "Deidara, I made you some pasta and broccoli," Sasori said flatly.

Wincing as soon as the redhead turned his back, Deidara forced himself out of the room and over to the kitchen table. Shit, it had been a long time since he had to go through this. The nurses had stopped watching him so closely months ago, and there was no chance for him to slip his food to someone else. God damnit, why did this always happen to him? With a sigh, he picked up his spoon, and began to move the pasta around his plate. Maybe, if he stayed there long enough, his guardian would give up.

Sasori, on the other hand, rose a brow and silently watched Deidara eat. Or...not eat, in this case. From the red bracelet fastened around the boy's wrist, he had gotten the vague idea that something was going on. As soon as he opened up the boy's novel of a medical record, his fears were confirmed. An anorexic for almost five years, this kid was suffering from not only an eating disorder but depression, self harm, and suicidal tendencies.

He probably got stuck with the blond because he was the most responsible. Without constant watch, this kid would crash and burn. Even now, Deidara was simply pushing the food around his plate, trying different arrangements to make it look as if there was less food.

Though it may have been wrong, Sasori knew exactly how to get into this kid's head. "Is the food that bad?" the redhead inquired after taking a bite of his own meal. "I can make you something else, if you want."

Deidara's eyes widened, and immediately focused on the plate. There wasn't much food there, but it was more than he would usually eat in a day, when the nurses weren't keeping a close eye on him. "No, I'm just...not hungry, un."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind making you something else."

"No, no, it's okay, un. Thank you for cooking, though." He already knew where this was going. It was exactly the same trick the nurses had tried to pull when he first entered the hospital. Part of him was disgusted with the redhead's lack of originality, but he let him keep going.

Sasori shrugged and gave him a half smile. "Thank you. I don't cook that often, so I was worried that it would come out inedible—"

"Okay, what are you trying to pull here. I've heard all of this before, un," Deidara grumbled, slamming his spoon down on the table.

Geez, he hadn't expected the blond to catch on that fast. "I was trying to be nice about it, Deidara," the redhead began. "You need to eat all of that. I don't care how long it takes, I want all of that food off of your plate and into your stomach."

"But—"

"And I want it to stay there. If I find vomit in the bathroom pipes later on, I'm going to be _pissed_."

Deidara's eyes widened. He had never been talked to this harshly about his eating habits before. His parents had been gone long before he developed his problems, and the nurses were always sickly sweet to him because he was poor, parentless, suicidal kid. "I...I can't, un," he said weakly.

"You're not even trying," Sasori pointed out. "How do you know you can't?"

"I just _know_, un," Deidara whined.

"I will sit here all night, Deidara."

Biting his lip, the blond looked down at his food. It was covered in butter, sauce, and God only knows what else. There was a shit ton of fat that he could see, and even more that he couldn't. And that's what terrified him. Each bite would stretch his stomach out a little bit more, until he ballooned, and his weight shot up. He'd turn into a fat, disgusting whale, and Sasori would kick him out on the streets because he was too disgusting to look at.

Still, he managed to get a spoonful of pasta onto his spoon and into his mouth. He chewed slowly, despising the taste of food in his mouth. His body screamed for it, but he didn't want to give in. He couldn't give up his starvation, his control. It was too much. Deidara forced himself to swallow, and put the spoon down. When he looked up at Sasori, he saw that the man had a smile on his face, and was nodding for him to continue.

If he ate, Sasori would be happy. But...was that worth turning into a fat slob? He didn't want the redhead to give him _that_ look, just like everyone else. That look of utter contempt when he couldn't finish a meal, or when he down right refused to. Which was worse? He picked the spoon up again, and put it down. Up, down, up, down. It had to be at least a dozen more times before he got another scoop of pasta on it.

"You're capable of doing this, Deidara."

While Sasori had complete confidence in him, the blond wasn't so sure. But as bite after bite of food went into his mouth, he found himself eating faster. His body begged for him to continue, while his mind screamed for him to stop. The next time he looked down, he saw that the plate was completely empty.

Had he just...eaten the whole thing? _Shit_, he cursed silently. How many carbs were in that? How many calories? He knew that if he asked the redhead, he wouldn't get an answer. Not only that, but after a year of being unable to count calories, the numbers were fuzzy to him. Deidara's stomach felt full and stretched, and he hated it. He wished he was a puker, he really did. That way, he could go outside and vomit everything up into the trashcan. But even the best bulimics new that pasta was one of the worst things to throw up.

Thoroughly disappointed in himself, Deidara let his head slip into his hands. Tears stung at his eyes, and he refused to look up; there was no reason to burden Sasori with his emotions.

"You did extremely well, Deidara. I'm impressed, actually," Sasori commented, getting up to move their plates off of the table. "I'm glad you didn't cry; I don't know how to handle that."

As soon as the words came out of Sasori's mouth, the blond got up. He had to get out of here before the tears spilled down his cheeks. "I'm kind of tired. Do you mind if I go to bed early, un?" he asked softly, keeping his one good eye focused on the ground._ Don't look at me, don't look at me. Whatever you do, don't look at me._

Without turning around, Sasori nodded. "Sure. You had a huge transition today, so you're probably exhausted."

"Thank you for dinner, un." _You're fucking lucky I can't barf it all up._

"Of course. I'll wake you up for breakfast tomorrow." Just at the word "breakfast", Deidara felt nauseous. He had to eat more food? For fuck's sake, that was impossible. He rushed into his room, and shut the door behind him. If he was going to eat tomorrow morning, he had to get rid of as many of these horrific calories as possible. There was no exercise equipment in the house, so the blond had to settle on push ups, sit ups, and crunches.

Deidara was on the floor of his room, work out until his shirt was soaked with sweat, and his body was threatening to pass out. If Sasori hadn't checked to make sure he was free of sharp objects, he would have tried to cut the fat off of himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Deidara shot up in bed, and without even thinking about it, swore at the top of his lungs and grabbed his midsection. His entire abdomen was cramped up, to the point where it had torn him out of the best sleep he had gotten in months. "Mother _fucker_, un," he groaned, curling up in the fetal position to try and get rid of the pain. Where the hell had this come from? He had worked out for hours, but these weren't exercise pains. What had he—_Oh._

All of a sudden, the answer hit him.

It was that stupid, goddamn pasta Sasori had forced him to eat. He never had a large amount of carbs at once, and he tried to avoid them all together. If he were to guess, his stomach had no idea how to handle them. "Shit, un," he grumbled, moving to stretch out. When the pain got worse, he stopped. What was he supposed to do? He could force himself to the bathroom and try to puke the pasta up. But he had never purged before, and he knew he probably wouldn't be quiet. Still, the idea was extremely appealing, as it was a quick fix to his current problem.

With a sharp inhale, followed by a yelp, Deidara forced himself out of the bed, and towards the bathroom. If he couldn't make himself puke, he'd at least try to find some pain killers.

Before he could even make it two feet, the door to his room swung open, and Sasori peeked his head inside. "Deidara, are you okay?" Shit, he had woken him up.

The blond tried to flash him a smile and nod, but the pain in his stomach only made him wince. Goddamnit, why did he have to be so loud and _stupid_. Now, there was no way he could vomit. Not with Sasori there. The last thing he wanted was to get sent back to that fucking hospital.

"What's wrong?" the redhead asked frantically, at Deidara's side within a matter of seconds. He looked...worried. It was an expression that Deidara hadn't seen genuinely in years, and it frightened him.

The blond shook his head. "My stomach, un," he managed to grumble.

"What?"

"I'm not used to...that much food, un," he forced out, avoiding eye contact with Sasori. He expected an explosion. How could he not have eaten that much before? He was supposed to be recovered before he got here. Now, he was just making more trouble for Sasori, and it made him want to curl up into a ball and die. Simply the idea of being a nuisance disgusted him.

Sasori nodded slowly, and looked at the blond. Thankfully, he hadn't gone to sleep yet, or he wouldn't have heard Deidara scream. He wasn't surprised, really. He had expected something like this to happen. "Let's go sit on the couch, okay?"

The blond, on the other hand, violently shook his head. "I don't want to keep you up, un. I'll survive."

At this, Sasori couldn't help but smirk. "I wasn't sleeping. Please?"

"Fine, un." Unwillingly, Deidara was led into the main room of the house. Sasori motioned for him to sit, and he did so reluctantly. He felt awful for having the redhead take care of him at a time like this. He had caught a glimpse of the clock, and saw that it was nearly three in the morning. Who the hell was awake at three in the morning? Sasori must have lied to make him feel better. "Can I have some painkillers, un?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to, but the faster he got better, the faster Sasori would go to bed.

"You can't have them on an empty stomach, Deidara," Sasori informed him. Yeah, like that had stopped him before. "Do you want some toast?"

"I'd rather die, un."

Sasori paused for a moment. "How about some tea?"

The blond sighed, and curled up on the couch. "I guess, un," he muttered.

While Sasori made him some tea and got some pain killers, Deidara let himself sink into the couch. He was exhausted, yes, but the pain was keeping him wide awake. Even though he knew he would be better soon, he still wanted to vomit. As much as he tried, he couldn't push the idea out of his head. But he had never been a puker. And pasta, he had heard from the other kids in the hospital, was exceptionally disgusting to purge.

When the redhead came back, rather than giving Deidara what he needed and heading back to bed, he sat down next to him. "These should help, I think," he said, putting the pills into one of Deidara's hands, and the tea into the other.

"Thanks, un," Deidara whispered, trying his best to smile at the redhead. The tea was scalding hot, but he threw the pills into his mouth and took a large sip of it anyway. The heat burned at his taste buds, but he didn't mind; he probably deserved to get hurt right now.

Sasori nodded, but said nothing. For the next half an hour, the two sat in silence while Deidara drank his tea and waited for the painkillers to kick in. When he felt decent enough to move again, the blond forced himself onto his feet. Sasori blinked a few times, then followed suit. "I'm sorry I kept you awake, un."

The redhead shrugged. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine, un."

"Try to get some sleep, then. You look exhausted."

The next morning, Deidara blinked his eyes open and was immediately greeted by a stinging in his abdomen when he tried to sit up. This time, he knew it was from his workout.

After years of doing these late night workouts, Deidara trained himself to enjoy the pain. That meant he had burned a ton of calories; maybe even enough to get rid of his entire dinner. But as much as he enjoyed the pain, his thoughts were soon filled with the reminder that Sasori would no doubt force him to eat breakfast. He tried his best not to be angry with his new guardian; after all, he was just following directions. That, and he had stayed up with him at three in the morning to make sure he was okay. But either way, the redhead was going to force him to eat. The thought in and of itself was enough to make him nauseous.

With a sigh, he grabbed some clothes out of his yet to be unpacked bag, and made his way into the shower. Sasori made no attempt to greet him, so he assumed that the man either didn't care, was still asleep, or was doing something else. Any of those things were fine with the blond; the less time he had with Sasori, the less he would be forced to eat. Already, he was beginning to associate the older man with food, and it both terrified and angered him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be out of recovery and getting better, not worse. But then again, this is what he had hoped for. He didn't want to get better, he wanted to get out.

Once the door was locked, Deidara pulled the shower curtain into place, turned on the shower, and peeled off his pajamas. Before the mirror clouded up, he took a moment to look at his nude body. Immediately, he was full of self loathing. Unlike everyone else he knew, he couldn't see the bones that were jutting out, threatening to break through his skin. He couldn't see that he was made only of skin and bone, and a few nearly failing organs. All he saw was fat. Fat, fat, fat. And especially after that full dinner, he felt heavy.

Deidara forced himself to look away from the mirror and got into the shower. He put the shower on as hot as it could go, hardly reacting when the scalding water began to burn his skin. Instead, he continued as he normally would, slowly washing out his hair and scrubbing the filth off of his body. Sometimes, he pretended that if he scrubbed hard enough, he might be able to wash off some fat, too.

By the time the blond stepped out of the shower, his skin was red from both scrubbing and the far too hot water. Ignoring it, he put on his clothes—tight black jeans with a black tank top and a white crop top over that—and made his way back into the main part of the house. This time, he saw Sasori sitting on the couch, silently reading the newspaper. Had he been there the whole time? Or had the shower woken him up? "Good morning, un," Deidara said, forcing a wide smile onto his face. It was just like in the hospital; the happier he seemed, the less everyone worried about him.

Sasori looked up from the newspaper. "Oh, you're up already. And you showered. I didn't even hear you," the redhead replied, looking the boy up and down. Damn, he was skinny. No matter which way he looked at the kid, he couldn't spot an ounce of fat or a single unflattering angle. "What would you like for breakfast? I'll make you something."

The blond shrugged. "I'm still full from last night, un." Not a second later, his stomach betrayed him and growled loud enough for both of them to hear it. Oh, if he could have killed himself right then and there. _If he makes me eat, I'll kill him. _As quickly as the thought came, the blond forced it away. What the hell was wrong with him?

"I can make you eggs and toast, if you want."

Just the thought of eggs was enough to make Deidara want to barf. "What are you having, un?"

"Toast, yogurt, and fruit."

Deidara thought for a moment. His stomach would probably handle that better. "You don't have to make something separate for me. I'll just eat whatever you're having, un."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind."

"Positive, un." _I don't want any of it. Just let me starve to death, for fuck's sake. _Now, Deidara was terrified both of getting fat, and waking up in the middle of the night screaming.

Sasori got up from the couch, and within ten minutes, had breakfast on the kitchen table for the both of them. Reluctantly, the blond sat down with him. Almost automatically, he grabbed the yogurt packet and tried to look at the nutrition facts. When he saw that there was no label on the container, he rose a brow.

"I took it off, Deidara."

"...Why, un?" As the words came out of his mouth, the blond already knew the answer to his question. This was the same thing they did in the hospital, too.

"Do I look stupid to you?" When Deidara didn't respond, he sighed. "What's with you?"

"What, un?" the blond grumbled, pushing around the fruit on his plate with no intention of eating it whatsoever. He had eaten for Sasori yesterday, and it had ended horrendously.

"When did this whole deal start?"

"...My eating disorder, un?" the blond asked innocently. When Sasori nodded, he grinned widely and tried to keep himself under control. The happier he seemed, the more control he had. "I want to be beautiful, un."

"I thought only girls did this type of thing," Sasori said to himself, just loud enough that the younger man could hear it.

At the words, Deidara had to keep himself from scowling. "Just because I don't have tits doesn't mean that I don't care about my appearance, un," he shot back.

Sasori nodded once more. "And how did your boyfriends take that?"

"They didn't really—Wait, how did you know, un!?" the blond all but shrieked, letting the fork fly out of his hand and clatter against the ground.

At this, Sasori couldn't help but laugh. "You're not exactly hard to read, Deidara. Get another fork and eat your breakfast."

**00000000000**

Itachi sat himself down at the kitchen table, and took a deep breath. Kisame had left for work hours ago, leaving the Uchiha to roam the house. He had told Itachi that he could go outside, as long as he didn't lock himself out, but the idea hardly appealed to him. The last thing he wanted was to go outside and get forced to strike up a conversation.

For right now, he settled on cleaning his guardian's apartment. The dishes had to be done, and the place looked like it hadn't been vacuumed or dusted in God knows how long. So, as an attempt towards a kind gesture for letting him stay, Itachi decided to tidy up the house to the best of his ability.

Though it had been nearly four days, he couldn't get what Kisame had told him out of his head. He knew he had to talk. That was the whole reason he had gotten thrown out of the hospital; they thought he was ready. Obviously, he wasn't. Any idiot could have figured that out. But when push came to shove, they needed more spaces for the critical need patients, so he got booted to the street. His life wasn't as in danger as they had originally thought, so it was fine to let him go. Still, the idea that they thought Deidara was stable was beyond him. Multiple times a day, he wondered how the blond was doing. He would have gathered up the courage to ask Kisame to call him, but what would he say? The Uchiha had known Deidara for years, but hardly spoke to him.

It was times like these that Itachi wondered what was really wrong with him. They had diagnosed him with severe social anxiety, but he never had a problem being around a large amount of people. It was the idea of speaking that made him want to be secluded. People meant talking. He hated talking, so he hated people. Why? It was something only he knew. The nurses had never pried it out of him, no matter how much they begged, pleaded, bargained, or screamed. It wasn't any of their business. After all, who were they to him? Strangers...all of them.

By the time Kisame had gotten home, he had conquered the entire living room, and half of the kitchen.

"Geez, you were busy today," Kisame commented, halfway through taking off his coffee stained apron before he even got through the door. "Damn, I had one hell of a day today."

Itachi rose a brow, signaling for his guardian to continue.

"I think I hired one of your friends today. Shit, is that kid wired," Kisame commented, shaking his head. "I don't know how Kakuzu does it."

He had hired Hidan? Actually, Itachi wasn't all that surprised. The Jashinist was rude, hyperactive, and batshit crazy, but he had a significant work ethic, considering all that he had been through. Granted, he would have been looking for a job as well, had he been able to actually speak to any potential employers. Regardless, he was happy for Hidan. Out of the three of them, he was getting his life back on track the fastest.

**00000000000**

Hidan wandered through the streets, wondering how the hell this job interview was going to go. The day before, he had realized that all of his good clothing was back at his old home. Essentially, gone. Grudgingly, Kakuzu had dragged him to the local clothing store to pick out something suitable for an interview. Now, he was forced into a pair of black dress pants, along with a white dress shirt. Thankfully, Kakuzu had let up on the idea of a tie, but this wasn't much better. He hardly ever wore a shirt, so being forced into a disgusting, tight fitting dress shirt was equivalent to his own personal hell. Not only that, but he had to be careful when he walked; if he twisted the wrong way, he was afraid it would open would of his fresh wounds. The last thing he needed was a blood stain on his new shirt.

Two days before, he had spent the day wandering around the center of town, looking for someplace to work. He wasn't sick, and was perfectly capable of being around people, so he figured the best course of action would be to make some money. Not only that, but he didn't want to put the burden of taking care of him completely on Kakuzu. After all, the guy had volunteered to take him in, so why stick him with all of the financial responsibility?

Getting an interview hadn't been a walk in the park by any means. Most of the places he walked into weren't hiring, and the ones that were wanted someone who was fit to be in a managerial position. That left Hidan with one option: Starbucks. And the only reason he had gotten an interview there was because he had given them a shit ton of phone calls until he finally spoke to the manager, who seemed eager to give him an interview.

And he had managed it all without a bit of profanity. Man, if Kakuzu had seen him, he would have been proud.

Inside of the Starbucks, Hidan sat himself down, and waited for the crowd to die down before going up to the counter and asking for the manager. Within minutes, he was back in his seat, waiting for the man to come out and speak with him. From the phone call, he seemed pretty easy going, so getting hired would probably be a breeze. Just in case, he brought his resume, along with a reference list. He doubted that he would need either, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

Hidan had been so busy staring at his resume, that he hadn't noticed that someone had approached him, and was now standing next to him. "Hidan?" Immediately, his head shot up, and he got out of his seat to shake the man's hand, only to freeze when he found himself staring at a tall, blue skinned man with spiked dark blue hair.

"You're..." Hidan trailed off, trying his best to keep all of the profanities in his head. "Itachi lives with you, right?" he managed to force out, shaking the man's hand as firmly as he could.

The man nodded vigorously. "That's me. Kisame Hoshigaki, pleasure to meet you."

As they sat down for the interview, Hidan silently thanked Jashin for his kindness, and promised a substantial offering when he got home. Damn, he couldn't have gotten any luckier.

An hour later, Hidan burst into Kakuzu's house, grin plastered on his pale face. "What happened to you?" Kakuzu asked, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. "I take it you got the job?"

"Of course I fucking did!"

"Where are you even working?"

"Starbucks, for now. I had no fucking idea Kisame was the manager there!" the albino exclaimed, still grinning as widely as ever.

At this, Kakuzu lowered the paper and shot him a puzzled look. "Everyone knows that, Hidan. He's blue, and extremely hard to forget."

"Don't fucking ruin this for me," Hidan snapped, moving from the living room and towards his bedroom. "I need to give Jashin an offering, so don't fucking disturb me!" he called back, only to have Kakuzu shake his head and sigh.

As soon as he heard Hidan lock the door to his room, Kakuzu sighed and headed to the medicine cabinet for some pain killers. The boy had been home for five minutes, and he already had a splitting headache.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks after living with Itachi, Kisame hated to admit it, but he found himself frustrated by the boy's lack of communication. Just being around the Uchiha was uncomfortable, and he was never sure if the boy was actually all right. He didn't seem upset, but he didn't seem happy, either. Occasionally, he would smile, or laugh in a silent, almost deformed sort of way, but most of the time he kept a calm, emotionless expression on his face.

Rather than taking a direct route and forcing the words out of Itachi, he called Hidan into his office during one of the store's usual slow times. When the albino initially walked in, he was paler than normal, and fidgeting like crazy. "Look, if this is because I swore at that old lady, I swear, she fucking deserved it," Hidan spewed out before Kisame could even talk.

"...What?"

"Oh. Uhm. Nevermind."

Kisame shook his head, trying his best to ignore what he had just heard. Ignorance is bliss, he kept telling himself. _Especially _when it came to Hidan. "This doesn't have to do with work," he began, noticing immediately that his words only seemed to be making Hidan more anxious. "It's about Itachi, okay?"

Hidan blinked once, then twice. "What the fuck about him?" the albino said with a raised brow. "The kids not that damn exciting, you know."

"He's driving me out of my mind," Kisame said as carefully as he could. The last thing he needed to do was have his only shot at getting close to the Uchiha pissed at him. "It's not that he's a bad kid, he just—"

Hidan rose a hand, signaling for his manager to stop. "It creeps you the fuck out that he doesn't talk, yeah?"

"It's not that it—"

"It's a yes or no question, dumbass."

"...Yeah, I guess," Kisame stammered, already feeling his face begin to burn from embarrassment. "I wanted to know if you knew anything about him."

Hidan shrugged. "How would I know, if he never fucking talks?" he inquired.

Kisame shot him a flat look. "I never asked if he told you. After all, I know you have a hard time minding your own business."

Damn, his boss had him there.

"Well, you at least know that we're all foster kids, right?"

Kisame nodded. "That's what I've been told," he said in reply.

"In Itachi's case, that explains most of it."

"How so?" the blue skinned man asked, raising a brow at Hidan's statement.

The albino shrugged. "His parents beat the shit out of him. Perfectionist assholes, if you ask me. It must have triggered something, and got him messed the fuck up."

"How is it that you're doing perfectly fine, but Itachi is still struggling horrendously, then?"

Hidan shrugged. "Itachi and I aren't the same fucking person. And just because my problems aren't as obvious doesn't mean they aren't there, dumbass," he muttered, smirking at the blue skinned man.

For a brief moment, Kisame saw something in the younger man's eyes. It wasn't a hint of depression, it was...insanity. He seemed crazed, almost...possessed. There was more to him that the foul, loudmouthed brat that made coffee for eight hours a day. Obviously, there was an issue. He assumed that Kakuzu had no idea, since the man couldn't give less of a shit if he tried. Often, Kisame was the most observant out of his friends. Kakuzu didn't care enough to observe, while Sasori struggled to interact with other human beings, so if he noticed anything, he didn't know what to do.

"What do I do?"

"Fucking...what?"

"How do I help him?" Kisame asked softly. "He must be driving himself insane, and I don't know how he can bear it," the blue skinned man murmured. Itachi was quiet, and sometimes emotional, but most of the time he looked nothing short of dead. He knew whatever was going on in the Uchiha's mind had to have been enough to turn him off to everything around him, and practically kill him for brief periods of time.

"Whatever you do, don't force him. Any fucking moron could tell you he hates that," Hidan suggested with a shrug. "I guarantee you, if you force him, the bastard will fucking relapse before you can even think about stopping him."

"But how—"

"Treat him like a Jashin damned normal human being," Hidan spat. How did these people never get it? Itachi didn't want to be treated any differently than any other average human. He wanted to be normal, and forget about why he was so fucked up. Kisame didn't need his knowledge of Itachi's past for that. "I'd tell you more about Itachi, but that's his fucking job. I'm not making shit easier for him."

"You're insane, you know that, right?"

At the comment, Hidan couldn't help but beam. "That's what I've been told almost every day for the past two years," he retorted, getting up from his seat as he spoke. "I'd love to chat more, but I have to get back to my fucking job."

"Hidan?"

"What, asshole?"

"Thank you."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

A few hours later, Hidan held a blade against his wrist, and sighed. If Kisame saw him come into work with fresh marks, he'd get pissed beyond belief. "Fucker," the albino muttered to himself, before moving the blade so that it rested right below his collarbone. After years of doing this, he didn't even think twice before digging it into his skin and pulling down so that it created a substantial wound. Automatically, he inhaled sharply, and his body tried to make him cry out from the substantial amount of pain it had just suffered. Instead of allowing the noise to slip through his lips, Hidan turned it into a twisted, almost deformed laugh. He needed to be joyful about his gift to Jashin, and not show the true pain he was feeling.

What use did Jashin have for an unwilling servant? Hidan shuddered at the pain, and leaned forward so that the blood trickled quickly from the fresh wound. He held a hand out to catch any stray drops before they hit the carpet; the last thing he needed was Kakuzu yelling at him for messing up the carpet. Again.

How was it that he cut himself like this without any sort of depression, or even remotely negative thoughts? He sliced his skin open, and let himself bleed out, and watched happily. Meanwhile, Deidara was probably doing the same thing, but trying to kill himself. Why did things work out so cruelly?

Hidan made another cut on his torso, this time, digging the blade a little bit deeper. This one was for Deidara. Perhaps, if he made an extra offering to Jashin, the blond's life would get _somewhat_ better. But, even as he watched his blood spring out of the wound, he practically knew it wouldn't make any difference. Deidara was too damaged, and not even this deity could help him.

The albino wiped the blade off on his pants, and slipped it back into his pocket. By now, he knew better than to hide blades in his room. Most morons would check every nook and cranny before even laying a hand on Hidan to search him.

When he finally managed to dull the bleeding, Hidan slipped his jacket back on, zipped it up, and casually exited his room.

"Oi, fucker."

"What is it, Hidan?" Kakuzu grumbled, looking up from a stack of paperwork. "...Why is your jacket zipped up?"

"I'm cold, dumbass."

"...Right."

"How was work?"

"Not quite finished, obviously," the miser replied, motioning to the papers on the table. "Employee evaluations. I could hang myself."

"Sound fucking stupid."

"...Do you want something, Hidan?"

The albino shrugged. "I'm not sure. Have you talked to Sasori lately?"

"Obviously."

Hidan sneered at the reply. "Jashin, I was just trying to be fucking nice, okay?"

"I'll repeat myself: do you want something, Hidan?"

"Have you heard anything about Deidara?"

Kakuzu blinked once, then twice. "Nothing significant. Why?"

"I was just wondering if maybe he tried to...I don't know..."

"Kill himself?"

Hidan's eyes widened, and it took a moment for him to even process the words. "Yeah. Something like that."

The miser sighed, and put down his paperwork. "Look, Hidan. You probably don't want to hear this, but you should probably worry about yourself first. Sasori has him under control."

"I'm perfectly fucking fine."

"I'd beg to differ."

"...What?"

Kakuzu stood up, and approached the younger man. In one swift move, he had Hidan's jacket unzipped, revealing the two cuts on his chest. "You know I don't give a fuck if you cut yourself. It's almost ninety degrees out. You put it on so that I wouldn't see them, because you went too deep this time." When Hidan said nothing, the miser knew he was right. "For fuck's sake, Hidan, pull yourself together."

"I'm fucking _fine_," Hidan growled, narrowing his eyes at his guardian. He wasn't depressed, he was just doing this for religious purposes.

"Just because you don't want to kill yourself doesn't mean that you're fine, you idiot!" Kakuzu snapped, pushing the boy back enough to make him stumble and crash to the ground. Even then, he didn't stop speaking. "You're losing control again, Hidan. And I don't want to find you dead because you did something stupid."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Deidara sat on the couch, thinking to himself with a blank piece of paper in front of him. He had eaten cereal and fruit for breakfast. Damnit, it had been so long since he had counted calories, that all the numbers were beginning to slip from him. Cursing to himself, he jotted down what he thought was the correct amount of calories for each item. Since he was unsure, he leaned more towards putting down too many calories than too few. That way, he wouldn't gain any unwanted weight.

Easier said than done with Sasori constantly breathing down his neck. The only reason he was able to make his list was because the redhead was at work. Before the older man got home, Deidara would have to hide this somewhere in his room. Usually, Sasori didn't go in there...or at least that's what he was supposed to think. Especially since he was in charge of keeping the blond "healthy", he couldn't be too cautious.

Not a moment after he had tucked the slip of paper away into his suitcase, Deidara heard the front door open. Was Sasori home already? A quick glance at his clock confirmed that it was far after five o clock, and that the redhead had been out of work for a while. As casually as he could, Deidara made his way out of his room and smiled at him. "How was work, un?"

"Uneventful."

"Oh, un."

"Did you do anything today?"

"I drew, un."

Sasori nodded once, and made his way into the kitchen. "May I see?"

At this, the blond froze. "Uhm..."

"It's okay, you don't have to show me. What would you like for dinner?" the redhead then asked,

Deidara looked at his guardian. "Honestly? Nothing, un." By now, he figured there was no point in lying to Sasori. If the man wanted to see how broken he was, then by all means, let him see.

At this, Sasori sighed. He should have expected that much. "You know you have to eat, Deidara."

"I'd rather shoot myself."

"Don't joke about that."

"I'm not joking, un."

"Dei—"

"If you're going to lecture me about my attitude, don't fucking bother, un," the blond grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest with a heavy sigh.

Sasori blinked a few times, then took a deep breath. There was no point in yelling at him. No point in lecturing him. The redhead practically found himself at a loss for what to do. So, he decided to try another method.

"Come here."

"...What, un?" Deidara blurted out, completely caught off guard .Was Sasori going to hit him? Immediately, he pushed the thought out of his head. He felt guilty for even thinking that the redhead would do something like that. Mostly out of guilt, he stepped towards his guardian, continuing to move closer until they were only a foot or two apart. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, Sasori shifted his weight and wrapped his arms around the blond. He approached him gently, knowing very well that his touch could set the boy off. Thankfully, though, Deidara seemed too shocked to do anything.

Instead of speaking, the redhead focused on the fact that he could feel every single one of Deidara's bones through the shirt he was wearing. Wordlessly, they stood across from each other, while Sasori counted his ribs. "Deidara."

"What, un?" said boy repeated, softer than ever. He didn't know what to do. His mind was beginning to panic, and his body refused to do anything. Why was Sasori touching him? He didn't like it. His body was too disgusting to be touched...to be comforted, even. He wanted to die, right then and there. Sasori's fingers brushed against his ribs, and then his spine, and there was nothing he could do about it. If he pushed Sasori away, the redhead would get angry. Rightfully so, too. So, the blond settled on standing there, frozen like a deer in headlights, hoping for the display of affection to stop.

Sasori sighed heavily, his breath tickling the younger boy's neck. Deidara, unaccustomed to the sudden warmth, shuddered.

"I think you're beautiful," the redhead murmured. The words were dangerous; he knew they were. They could help, or they could trigger. Right now, he was hoping for the best. He hoped that what he had done wouldn't worsen the boy's condition. He just wanted to help ease the burden that this boy was carrying on his shoulders.

He moved his head back, forcing himself to look at Deidara's single eye. It was wide, shocked, and beginning to tear up. The blond opened his mouth to talk, but said nothing. Instead of words, a weak sob made its way through his lips.

"Deidara, are you—"

"I'm fine, un," the blond choked out. "Thank you, un," he murmured, avoiding eye contact with Sasori. Shit, this was bad. He didn't want to lose it now, especially not in front of the redhead. Too many thoughts were going through his head, and he didn't know how to handle any of them. He needed to get out of this situation. More importantly, he needed to be alone.

"Deidara?"

"Thank you, un," he whispered again, disappearing into his room before Sasori had a chance to say anything else.

When he realized that the boy wasn't going to come out, the redhead shook his head and threw together a small dinner. He made up two plates, and put one into the refrigerator in case Deidara wanted some later. Already, he knew that he was going to end up throwing the food away.

A few hours later, the redhead passed by Deidara's door as casually as he could, mortified by the idea of the younger man opening the door as he was eavesdropping on him. The lights inside of the room were off, but he knew that the blond wasn't asleep. He strained to hear any sort of noise beyond the door, but as his ears got used to searching for such low frequencies, he could feel his stomach begin to sink.

From inside of the room, Sasori heard the blond sobbing himself to sleep. He rose his hand to knock on the door, but let it fall back to his side instead. Talking to him now would only make it worse. After all, it had been his words that had set Deidara off in the first place.

With a heavy sigh, the redhead made his way into his own room. He would have to wait until the morning to talk to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Itachi trailed behind Kisame in the super market, not sure of how close he should stay to his guardian. Due to his lack of conversational abilities, and his overall death like appearance, the Uchiha was almost positive that Kisame would be ashamed to be seen with him. And for that reason, he had settled on staying quite a distance away from his guardian, acting as if they hadn't come to the store together.

It wasn't until the two of them were back in Kisame's car that said man spoke. "Itachi, are you alright?"

For a moment, the Uchiha thought, then proceeded to nod slowly.

"Do you not like being in public?"

He shrugged. Then, he noticed Kisame pause for a moment and take a deep breath, as if he were under a large amount of stress. Oh, Itachi knew that look extremely well. He couldn't even count on his hands the number of times he had gotten it during his time in the hospital. His guardian's patience was wearing thin; he couldn't deal with Itachi's disease. Most likely, he didn't know _how _to deal with it. Itachi wasn't surprised, honestly. He had stopped putting his trust in the coping abilities of other human beings. The only person he could trust was himself. And considering how unstable he was, it wasn't exactly comforting.

"Itachi, I don't know what to do for you." And with that, Kisame turned on the car, and started towards their trip home. An uncomfortable silence seemed to linger between them, to the point where even Itachi found it unsettling. Normally, he could tolerate silence for weeks, or sometimes months on end. How was it that only a few seconds was beginning to make him squirm? And then it hit him.

Guilt. He felt bad that Kisame was so anxious about his disorder. Goddamnit, for someone who was supposed to be a genius, he was a real idiot sometimes. He wanted to say something to Kisame. Anything, really. Just one word. One. He could have said something idiotic, but it would have been better than nothing.

It wasn't until they had pulled into the driveway that he forced his vocal chords to do something. "I'm sorry," he murmured, barely loud enough for his guardian to hear. Still, the man managed to pick up the words.

Kisame's mind worked quickly, until he realized that this was the first time he had heard Itachi's voice. The younger man spoke softly, but his voice seemed capable of holding strength, authority, and confidence. In fact, he probably did before his disorder developed into what it was now. "I...uhm...it's okay, Itachi," the shark-like man managed to force out, too shocked to speak smoothly.

Itachi, on the other hand, knew that it wasn't okay. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Sure, Kisame was probably thrilled that he had actually managed to speak, but the feeling was far from mutual. As quickly as he could, Itachi unbuckled his seat belt and tried to move out of the car, only to have a strong hand wrap around his arm and successfully stop him in his tracks.

"Itachi..."

Wordlessly, said man turned around, dreading what was to come. He knew very well that his sentence had thrown Kisame into a state of shock, and that his guardian wasn't about to let it drop any time soon. Still, he prayed that he might be able to slip into the silence of his room and wait for the day to be over.

They stared at each other for the longest time, eventually making it evident to Itachi that he was supposed to speak. "Hm?" he managed to force out.

Kisame blinked a few times, apparently taken aback once again by the noise that came out of Itachi's throat. "You should talk more often," he said, giving the younger man a sheepish grin. When he saw the puzzled look the Uchiha was giving him, Kisame's smile got even larger. "You have a nice voice."

If Itachi didn't feel like he was going to die before, he sure did now. To make matters worse, his face was beginning to burn up to the point where he was sure his guardian would notice. Embarrassed didn't even begin to describe it. He knew that he should have probably said something else, but the words refused to form in his throat. He had already done enough today, and his body refused to do any more. That, and he really didn't _want_ to talk anymore.

When they finally got into the house, the Uchiha made a beeline to his room, only to be stopped again. "Itachi."

Narrowly dismissing the idea of letting a scowl come to his face, said man turned around again. His expression alone was enough to let Kisame know he wasn't about to say anything else.

"I'm proud of you. I just...uh...wanted to tell you," Kisame said, the same foolish look coming to his face. He spoke awkwardly, as if he didn't know what he was doing. Accurate, because really, he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

Itachi, on the other hand, hadn't noticed the fumbling of Kisame's words. He had focused remembering the last time he had heard those words. Slowly, he sorted through his memories, and realized that it was the first time anyone had said that to him.

Consequently, the effect of the words hit him like an oncoming train. His chest clenched, and he quickly grabbed the fabric over his heart, only half aware of what he was doing. Kisame, who at the moment was the quicker of the two, moved forward and wrapped both of his arms firmly around the younger man. For the longest time, the two of them stood there, Kisame waiting patiently, and Itachi staring ahead blankly, tears dripping down his face.

**oooOOOOooo**

The morning after the incident, Deidara felt nothing short of embarrassed to death. What the fuck had made him think it would be a good idea to storm off into his room and hide for the rest of the night? The only positive was that his stomach was killing him; the sign of a successfully skipped dinner. That, and Sasori hadn't even made an attempt to get him to eat.

After a quick shower, the blond moved slowly into the kitchen, not quite awake yet.

"Deidara?"

Said boy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them to look at Sasori. "Good morning, un," he mumbled as casually as he could. And he thought he hated himself before. Now, he felt like a full blown idiot. Fat and stupid, what a perfect match.

"I made you some breakfast. It might be a lot, but I know you didn't eat dinner," Sasori said flatly, sitting himself down at the table. Oh, great. Just with a quick glance, Deidara could see tons upon tons of carbs staring back at him. There was no way he could do this. That, and he really didn't want to.

"Oh. Uhm. Thanks, un," he muttered, knowing that he didn't sound sincere in the least.

The two of them sat down at the table, and it wasn't until Deidara had forced a bit of food into his mouth that the redhead spoke again. Chew, chew, swallow. He thought about the process of eating, rather than what he was actually putting into his mouth. Unfortunately, it wasn't that great of a distraction, because as soon as the food went down his throat, he felt the full extent of how hungry he was.

"Is there anything you'd like to do today? I'm off from work," Sasori informed him, trying his best to smile as he watched the boy eat. In the past ten minutes, he had only eaten about five bites of his meal.

Deidara shrugged. He really didn't want to do anything with the redhead. He wanted to sit by himself and wallow in self pity until he ended up drowning in it. "I'm fine with staying home, un," the blond replied, forcing a smile onto his face. "You're probably tired from working so much, un."

Sasori blinked a few times. "I'm used to it," he lied. Really, he was dead tired, but he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to try and brighten this kid's day. After last night, he really needed it. Speaking of which...he eyed the blond just in time to see him giving his breakfast a death glare. There wasn't even an ounce of progress since he had first arrived at Sasori's house, and said man had no idea as to what he had to do to help. Finally, he put his fork down and stared straight at the blond. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, un," the blond replied quickly. Too quickly.

"Talk to me."

Deidara looked up at Sasori, the back down at his plate. No matter where his eye went, he was uncomfortable. "About what, un?" he muttered. He tried to play stupid, but the act was horrendously pathetic, even to him.

"Deidara, don't try to pull that stunt with me."

The room fell silent, save for the sound of Deidara scraping his fork against the still full plate in front of him. Several minutes passed, and it wasn't until they made uncomfortable eye contact for at least the hundredth time that the blond finally decided to try and speak. "I'm sorry, un."

"For what?"

"Acting like a little shit, un," he muttered, eye traveling down to his plate before making its way up to Sasori.

Sasori blinked a few times, then sighed heavily. As soon as the noise came out of his mouth, he saw the blond visibly flinch as if he had just gotten screamed at. What the hell? "Deidara, it's okay. I just...don't understand..." he murmured. "Why were you so upset yesterday?"

Deidara stared at him, looking about he was about to start bawling at any second. Sure enough, tears began to well up in his eyes again. God, this kid was a mess. "Because I'm not beautiful, un," he whispered, barely loud enough for Sasori to hear him. A single tear dripped out of his eye, rolling down his face before hitting the table. Had it been anyone else, Sasori would have assumed they were saying it for attention. But the look on Deidara's face truly showed that he hated himself.

Sasori opened his mouth a few times in an attempt to speak, but it wasn't until at least a minute or two had passed that he could get substantial words out. "...Who the hell told you that?"

Deidara shrugged.

"...You obviously know, Deidara."

"My family, my friends, my significant others...at one point or another, they told me I was ugly, un," he muttered, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. "They hated me."

"Deidara, I'm sure they don't—"

"Why am I living with you, un?"

Sasori was taken aback by the question. "...What?"

"Nobody would take me. I'm unwanted, un." Deidara smiled sadly, but this time, tears didn't even begin to come to his eyes. He was used to thinking about this. It didn't crush him like it used to; by now, he had accepted it. Everyone hated him, and that was that. Soon enough, Sasori would be amongst their numbers, and he would be alone again. Before, Hidan and Itachi might have been at his side, but now they were better, and free to move on. He couldn't blame them, though. They deserved to be happy.

He, on the other hand, deserved nothing.

The redhead had trouble processing what he had just heard. Out of all Deidara's relatives and friends, not one wanted to even try and take him in? The boy was unstable, but he wasn't _that_ bad. Or, that's what Sasori thought so far. "You can't let yourself listen to them, you know..." he murmured, not sure what the blond would think of his advice.

"But they're _right,_ un."

"No, they're _not_."

The sincerity of Sasori's words scared the blond. "Why do you keep saying that, un?" he then whispered. "I don't get why you want to lie to me..." It always hurt more to watch Sasori talk like that, especially when he knew that the redhead was wrong.

"Because you are," Sasori murmured, looking straight at the blond while he spoke. He knew Deidara wouldn't believe him, but that was all right. He would at least try to get through to the younger man, no matter how many times he failed.

For the longest time, Deidara didn't say anything, he just stared at his plate, occasionally taking bits of food into his mouth.

"You're very nice, un."

At this, Sasori couldn't help but snort. But then, he remembered that he actually _had_ been being nice to the blond. The boy was difficult, but he wasn't unbearably annoying, so there was no reason for the redhead to snap at him.

"Why don't we go out today? I can take you shopping, and we can go out for lunch," Sasori suggested. Considering how much effort the blond put into dressing himself, he was sure the kid would like shopping. Lunch, on the other hand, would be a challenge he'd face when it was time to.

Sure enough, Deidara's face lit up at the word "shopping". "I...don't want to make you go out of your way."

The redhead shrugged as casually as he could. "It's too stuffy in here. It'll be good for us to get out for the day."

Sasori watched the younger boy, both fascinated and horrified as he watched him try on clothing item after clothing item. None of the outfits looked like they would fit a child, nevermind Deidara. Still, each and every time, the clothes slid onto his body with plenty of wiggle room.

"Deidara, what size are those clothes?"

"Double zero, un."

The redhead thought for a moment, and a puzzled look crossed his face before he continued again. "Men's clothing doesn't come in that size."

"...No shit, Sherlock, un."

"Are you wearing womens' clothing?" Sasori asked slowly, almost afraid to get an answer.

"What else would I be wearing, un?"

"...But—"

"Is that weird, un?"

"No, no, I've just never seen..." Sasori trailed off, shaking his head to dismiss the thought. It wasn't worth pursuing. "They look nice on you."

For a brief moment, the redhead saw Deidara's face light up. "Really, un?" Then, the expression darkened. "I don't think so." A long pause floated between them, before the blond sighed. "I hate clothes shopping."

"Then why did you make me come with you?"

Deidara shrugged. "Why don't I look good in any of these, un?"

The redhead's jaw nearly dropped. This kid...he wanted the blond to be joking, or to be saying what he had out of a need for attention. However, Sasori knew it wasn't the case. Deidara was honestly looking at himself with disgust, unable to get past the cloudiness of his disorder to do something as normal as clothes shopping.

"You look great in them, Deidara."

The blond sighed. "You don't have to lie to me. I won't be mad at you if you tell me I look bad, un." Deidara had certainly heard it enough times throughout his life to expect it.

"I'm a shitty liar, kid. I don't waste my time with that."

"Ah."

"Do you like the clothes?" The blond stared at the mirror, making displeased faces as he ran his hands over the fabric. It was a good five minutes before he turned back to Sasori.

"I love them, un," he murmured. "But I still look ugly, no matter what I put on, un."

Sasori tried his best to ignore the comment, and gave the blond the best smile he could muster up. "Would you like me to get them for you?"

Deidara shrugged. "I don't want you to waste your money on me, un."

"I want to get you something nice, though."

"Why, un?"

"Why not?"

"Because—"

"Deidara, please?"

"Fine, un."

As they left the store, Deidara felt a raging blush cross his face, catching himself so off guard that he actually had to reach up and feel his cheeks before he could believe how much his face was burning. Where the hell had that come from? And then, he realized; everything that Sasori had said had just hit him. The redhead thought he was beautiful. Sure, Deidara by no means agreed with him, but his guardian was without a doubt sincere about what he had said. It both scared the blond, and flattered him. His chest tightened momentarily, but a slow, deep breath calmed it down. As quickly as the feeling had came, Deidara was able to shake it off. Instead, he focused on something more important:

Why the hell had he reacted like that?

**oooOOOOooo**

Hidan slammed the door shut, immediately throwing himself onto Kakuzu's couch without even bothering to take off his work clothes. Had the miser been there, he probably would have—

"**Hidan.**"

Immediately, said boy was off of the couch, quickly peeling off his coffee stained apron before sitting himself down on the couch. "Jashin damnit, stop being such a hard ass," he muttered, cursing a few more times under his breath before settling down again.

Had it been anyone else, Kakuzu probably would have assumed that the Jashinist had had a particularly rough day. However, the boy was always like this; temperamental, loud, and obnoxious.

"You're lucky I don't wring your neck right now."

"...Huh?"

"You bled on the floor. Again." A few months ago, Kakuzu never imagined those words would be leaving his mouth so casually.

"...Fuck. I'll go clean the goddamn mess up," Hidan grumbled, moving in the direction of his room. Damn, he thought he had been more careful this time.

"Hidan," Kakuzu growled, making the younger man freeze in his spot and turn around.

The albino rolled his eyes and glared at his guardian. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Sit down."

"...What, are you going to fucking ground me?" Hidan spat, but despite his words, he took a seat back on the couch, Kakuzu joining him a moment later.

Though said man had ordered him to sit, it was a while before he managed to speak. "What the hell are you doing to yourself?"

Hidan blinked once, then twice. "Nothing, dumbass. I just do my daily rituals, and go on my way. No big fucking deal," he said with a shrug. But he already knew why Kakuzu was talking to him. He was going to deep again. He had hit a nerve the other day, and the blood wouldn't stop coming out. That was probably what his guardian had seen on the floor.

"For God's sake, Hidan, it looks like you fucking _killed_ someone in there!" Kakuzu shouted. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and it was Kakuzu who spoke first. "Take your shirt off, I want to see," he whispered, far less excitedly than before.

"Mother fucking Jashin damned moron," Hidan grumbled, but still listened to his guardian. He knew better than to ask what for; the evidence was on the floor in his room, and Kakuzu, unfortunately, wasn't an idiot. "I went a little too deep, okay?" he spat, but the marks on his body revealed otherwise. A huge chunk was missing from his wrist, and his stomach was deeply cut right under his ribs.

Just looking at it was enough to make Kakuzu nauseous.

"...You call that a _little_ too deep?! You're lucky you didn't fucking bleed out!" Kakuzu choked out, eyes focused on the wounds. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"It was a Jashin damned accident," Hidan muttered, as if it would make the situation better.

If anything, it made things worse. "Hidan, accident or not, you're going to kill yourself."

"I'm _fine._"

"That doesn't look fine to me!"

"Fuck you, then!"

"Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" Kakuzu all but shouted, motioning to the deep gashes on Hidan's body.

"Because it's supposed to _help_!" Hidan shot back immediately, completely catching Kakuzu off guard. "The deeper I go, the more Jashin is supposed to fucking help..." the albino muttered bitterly.

Silence crept up on them again, but it was quickly shoved away. "With what?" Kakuzu asked slowly, almost afraid to get an answer. When he didn't get one, he rose a brow. "Well?"

Hidan seemed to be thinking about his answer carefully. He obviously knew what it was, it was just how to say it he didn't know. Eventually, he settled on using the least amount of words possible. "Deidara and Itachi."

"...What?"

"They're pretty fucking messed up. But me? I'm not doing half fucking bad," the albino explained quickly, refusing to make eye contact with Kakuzu. This is where they usually laughed in his face, or looked at him like he was a freak. "Jashin's supposed to give me what I want if I give him a good enough sacrifice. But at the rate they're probably going, I'm gonna have to fucking slit my throat before anything gets done."

As hard as he could, Kakuzu struck the younger man across the face. The force of the blow sent him tumbling off of the couch, and into the coffee table before finally slumping to the ground.

"What the fuck was that for, asshole?!" Hidan growled, quickly picking himself up off of the ground. Before he could move to swing a fist at his guardian, Kakuzu seized him by the neck and pulled him forward until they were only a few inches apart.

"You better listen to me, Hidan...you better fucking listen," Kakuzu began, speaking in the most demanding tone he could muster up. Even the jashinist had to admit it was terrifying. "You're going to stop this, _now_. I told you I would leave you alone if you didn't do anything stupid, but you did. If I find you doing this shit again, you're not going to like the consequences, I can assure you of that much."

Rather than submitting to the older man, Hidan scowled and looked away from him. Inside, though, he was scared as fuck. "What the hell does it matter?"

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself over them."

"And why the fuck not?"

Kakuzu sighed heavily, releasing his vice grip on Hidan. "Did it ever occur to you that they'd be upset if you died? And for _them, _no less. Don't you think I'd be upset if you killed yourself?" he murmured, half to himself, half to Hidan.

Sure enough, the words caught the albino completely off guard. "...What?"

"You're not half bad, you idiot. It would be a waste to kill yourself."

Hidan blinked a few times, but said nothing. Slowly, he stood up and dusted himself off, before looking Kakuzu right in the eyes. Before the older man could see what was about to happen, Hidan picked his arm up and punched him in the shoulder, hard.

"You little—"

"Thanks, dumbass."

"...What?" Kakuzu sputtered, grabbing his now wounded shoulder. He assumed Hidan would be pissed off, not smiling like kid in a candy shop.

"No, really. Thanks."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

Ahhh, I'm sorry it took so long to update this D: The chapter has been done for a while, but when I moved into college, my computer got a virus, and then refused to connect to the wifi for three weeks. Ughhh. I'msosorryyyyy. But here's a new chapter! Sorry about the wait you guys ;-;

**oooOOOooo**

Hidan leaned against the counter and sighed heavily. Kisame had him closing the shop for the day, and he hadn't seen more than fifteen people since his shift had started. The shop was almost ready to be locked up for the night, and in fifteen minutes maximum, the albino would be running the fuck out of there, trying to get home as fast as possible.

In the meantime, the low amount of customers gave him time to think. Usually, he didn't mind, but as of late his brain was filled with thoughts he didn't want to have. After his discussion—if one could call it that—with Kakuzu, he began to question everything. _Especially_ his religion. That, more than anything else, terrified him. He had clung on to Jashinism for so long that he couldn't imagine a life without it.

But even with such a dependency, his ability to believe in it so readily was wavering. Kakuzu had brought up an excellent point that the albino couldn't overlook. Hidan was cutting himself deeply, just like his religion commanded, but his friends weren't getting better. Sure, he was getting better, but that wasn't what he was doing these rituals were for. Deidara was just as depressed as ever, and he hadn't heard a thing about Itachi.

And Jashin was supposed to make everything better. So...why wasn't anything working.

The albino shook his head, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. How the fuck was he supposed to deal with this? His life was going from decent to completely out of control faster than he could handle, and it was actually beginning to scare him. Who was he supposed to talk to? Deidara certainly couldn't handle any more; he had enough of his own problems to take care of. And Itachi wouldn't be able to get out enough words to say anything useful.

That left Kisame, Sasori, or Kakuzu. Sasori was automatically out, Kisame he still had to deal with in a professional setting...that left Kakuzu.

And he was the bastard that had messed everything up in the first place.

Hidan sighed again. Why did everything need to be so complicated? Fucking Kakuzu, messing up everything that he had worked towards. He had believed in his system so deeply that no one had been able to do this to him. What the hell was going on?

With a groan, the albino looked at his watch, only to realize with a small amount of glee that it was time for him to get the hell out of there. After following all of the procedures that Kisame had shown him, the coffee shop was locked up, and he was on his way home.

Even then, he couldn't get his mind off of the problem. The people heading home from work couldn't distract him, and neither could the man that nearly ran him over while he was crossing the street. _That_ was an extremely bad sign. When he couldn't even cover up his problems with blind rage, there was definitely something wrong.

To make matters worse, Kakuzu was already home when he opened the door.

"How was work?" the older man asked, not bothering to look up from his paper.

"Fuck off."

That, on the other hand, earned him a quick glance. "A normal day then, huh?"

"Fucking worse," the albino grumbled. Normally, he would have at least sat next to Kakuzu and humored him with small talk, but he was in no mood. He wanted to go into his room and cut himself.

But at the same time, he didn't. And that was another thing that was terrifying him. He wanted to watch himself bleed, but he didn't. Wanted to cut, but didn't. Wanted to sacrifice, but didn't.

Hidan stifled what was going to be a loud groan, quickly turning it into a scowl instead. Before Kakuzu could say anything else, he stormed into his room and quickly slammed the door shut. Automatically, he walked over to his desk, and pulled out every single razor or blade he had brought with him. There were quite a few, and all were in perfect condition. After all, if he was going to slice himself open, might as well do it with something nice.

Carefully, he picked up one of the smaller razors, and held it against his wrist. Normally, he would have dragged it across his skin without a thought. But now, he didn't want to. When he really thought about it, Hidan couldn't remember the last time he _hadn't_ wanted to cut himself. Sure, sometimes he felt bad about it, but continued through with it anyway. Now, he just didn't _want_ to.

"Jashin damnit," Hidan grumbled, throwing the blade down onto his desk. What the fuck was getting into him? His hand slammed against the desk with a loud thud, and a slew of curses came from his mouth. Why. Why. _Why._

He didn't even want to _look_ at the blades. How the hell had he gotten to this point? Grumbling under his breath, he scooped them up into his hands, careful not to accidentally cut himself in the process. Before he knew it, he was back in the main room of Kakuzu's house, standing silently in front of his guardian.

For a few moments, Kakuzu didn't even notice he was there. Then, when his eyes flickered up for a moment, he froze, and the two men stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"...Where the _hell_ did you get those?!" Kakuzu sputtered. He was aware that the albino had blades, but not _that_ many. "What were you—how did—_Hidan_."

Completely ignoring the outburst, Hidan held the sharp objects out towards his guardian. "I don't want them."

"...Pardon?"

"I don't want them," Hidan spat, narrowing his eyes at Kakuzu. "For fuck's sake, just _take_ them!"

"Jesus, calm down..." Kakuzu grumbled, but frantically took the items from the boy nonetheless. As he held the items in his hands, he couldn't help but notice what good shape they were in. "How long have you had these?"

"For fucking ever, asshole," Hidan mumbled, eyes focused on the ground. For the longest time, he had been proud of keeping his weapons in such good condition. Now, however, he felt a bit of shame, and had little to no idea as to why. "I don't want them," he repeated once again, shaking his head as he spoke.

Kakuzu looked down at the knives, and then back up at Hidan. "What's gotten into you?" he asked as calmly as he could. The two of them were both extremely uncomfortable, and the older man had almost no idea of what to do to make things better.

"I'm just...done."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not fucking doing this anymore," Hidan said with a shrug, and as casually as he could, left the room.'

Kakuzu, on the other hand, couldn't have forced himself to move if he wanted to. Shock had frozen him in place, leaving him to think about what the hell had just happened. If he had understood everything correctly, Hidan had just come in, dumped all of his items that he usually used for self harm, said he as done, and left. Done, meaning finished with cutting himself.

But why?

Hidan was dedicated to Jashinism. What would have gotten him to change his mind so quickly? It hadn't been that long since he had last cut himself, and the wounds were as deep as ever.

With a heavy sigh, Kakuzu placed the blades on the coffee table directly in front of him. What the hell was he supposed to do with all of them?

**oooOOOooo**

Itachi waited outside of the coffee shop, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot and checking his watch every few minutes. Today, he was going to try something new. Namely, walking home from work with Kisame. The logic behind it being that maybe if he forced himself into situations where he needed to talk, it would progressively become easier for him to speak. This experiment would either excel, or crash and burn. For him, there was no middle ground.

So, as he stood there and continued to check his watch more often than necessary, a sickening feeling of dread began to creep up in his stomach. What if Kisame didn't want him there? After all, this walk home was probably the only alone time he had for most of the day. Or, even worse, what if Kisame tried to talk, and he couldn't say anything in return. Unfortunately, the later seemed much more real, and bothered the Uchiha more than the former.

The latter showed that he wasn't making any improvement. Which meant he was falling behind his friends. Hidan was already employed. Hidan seemed to be doing fucking fine. Why wasn't he making any progress?

He just wasn't trying hard enough.

But even though he told himself that, the idea of speaking was still mortifying. After weeks of being in Kisame's home, though, the fear had transformed from what it was before. When he was still in the hospital, he wanted to punish himself, to keep himself distanced, and to remind himself that he was worthless. But over time, the ideas were beginning to fade. So why was he still scared? Habit, perhaps. Mere habit could have been keeping him from recovering.

Unfortunately, it seemed very human, making it an all too real possibility. And if that was the case, this would be the perfect way for him to start trying to break the habit.

His thoughts stopped short, and his chest clenched up when he saw Kisame headed for the door. Before the older man even stepped outside, he saw Itachi standing there. There was no getting out of it now.

The door swung open. In those few seconds before Kisame spoke, the Uchiha truly wished to stab himself right then and there. He thought he needed to say something, but not a single word wanted to leave his throat. He was borderline panicking, and didn't know what he was going to do if Kisame didn't say anything at all.

Thankfully, that was hardly the case. "Woah, what are you doing here?" Kisame asked, shooting the younger man a wide grin. He looked tired, but Itachi wasn't surprised in the least. The shark like man had been working for at least the past twelve hours, maybe even more.

Instead of saying anything, Itachi simply shrugged. Goddamnit.

"Were you waiting for me?" Kisame asked, pushing a little more in an attempt to get a response.

For a moment, Itachi thought about the response. "Yes." He rubbed his hands together, only to notice that they were getting clammy. Trying to ignore it, he focused on walking and trying to talk.

"Why?"

Another shrug. This time, however, the Uchiha opened his mouth to say more. "I wanted to."

"...Why?" Kisame asked, now more puzzled than ever.

"Company."

"...Oh. Okay." The shark like man wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but Itachi had said something, so he'd take it.

For about a half a mile, neither of them said anything, but were both thinking rapidly. Kisame was wondering what had gotten into the Uchiha, while Itachi was panicking about what to do next. He certainly hadn't talked enough, but what was he supposed to do? Was it all right for him to say more, or had he actually said enough? Knowing his way of thinking, the answer, no matter what he told himself, was no. He hadn't said enough.

"How was your day?" Itachi forced out, barely loud enough for Kisame to hear him. But when the shark like man did, he almost looked as if he was about to faint from shock.

"Uhm...good. I guess. I put Hidan in charge of closing, so God only knows how that'll end up."

"Oh." Silence fell over the two again. "How is Hidan?"

"Loud."

At this, Itachi couldn't help but smile. He would have been surprised to hear anything else. After all, for as long as the Uchiha had known him, Hidan had been loud and obnoxious at all times.

It was as they continued to walk home, a new wave of silence overcoming them, that Itachi began to piece together what was wrong. His heart was beating rapidly, from a fear and anxiety that he had never felt before. He felt like he wanted to vomit, not like he hated himself, and everything that he had ever done in his life. Though it was new, it was by no means better. His heart clenched and unclenched, and for a moment, he thought he was going into cardiac arrest. Then, he remembered that he was messed up mentally, not physically.

When they got home, he quickly excused himself, and slunk into his room after Kisame thanked him for keeping him company on the way home. Itachi practically threw himself onto his bed, and took a shaky breath. What the hell? He had _never_ felt anything like this before. Cautiously, Itachi reached up and touched his face, immediately noticing that it was red hot. Was he...blushing?

The man shook his head violently and took a deep breath. What was happening to him?

**oooOOOooo**

Deidara walked down the street, coffee in hand. He had managed to go out on his own for the first time in years, and the only condition that Sasori had was that he got something to eat while he was out. Even though he only got a coffee and a small pastry, it counted as something. For a moment, he had contemplated lying, but with all of the faith the redhead was putting in him, it would have been hard to tell such a huge lie to his face.

He had gotten the coffee a while ago, but he had only gotten halfway through it. He wasn't exactly sure of what he had ordered, but it tasted like it was more sugar than coffee, which in his case was somewhat terrifying.

After another small sip of coffee, the blond became faintly aware of what sounded like a few sets of footsteps behind him. Still, it was a city, and he didn't pay much mind to it. After all, plenty of people walked around at night. That didn't make all of them bad.

Deidara ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. He thought he was going to be home a lot earlier than this. Sasori probably didn't think much of it. Either that, or he was enjoying his alone time. Still, the blond slipped the cell phone out of his pocket and sent his guardian a quick text to let him know he was on his way home.

Not a second after he slipped the phone back into his pocket, a hand roughly seized him by the shoulder, and spun him around. The force of the movement sent the coffee out of his hand and all over the ground.

"Hey, what the fuck, un!" Deidara growled, narrowing his eyes at whoever had just grabbed him. Standing in front of him were two men that could only be described as ugly as sin. Not only that, but the blond could smell the alcohol on their breath.

Deidara would have been more nervous if he wasn't both pissed and wondering why the fuck things like this had to happen to him.

"Fucking good. If you drank any more of that, you would have gotten even fatter, you dumb bitch," the man who had grabbed him slurred.

Deidara's eyes automatically moved down to his body, to see whether or not what the man said was true. Thankfully, his brain took over, and made him look back up at the attackers. "Fuck off, un," he growled, only to get slapped across the face. The other man, who was standing not far behind the initial attacker, grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him back up. A pair of lips locked against the blond's neck, and he tried to thrash violently at his opponent while teeth sank deeply into his skin. If it didn't break, there was definitely going to be a mark there for a while.

"Watch your mouth, bitch."

A hand slipped between Deidara's legs, and he nearly screamed at the contact. There were very few people that had touched him like that before, and it was nothing short of humiliating to kno that a few drunks were getting so intimate with him. "Goddamnit, it's a man."

"Good, he'll be tighter."

Seeming to agree on that point, the other man went to grab at Deidara as well.

Once the initial shock of the situation wore off, Deidara began to think. If they thought the blond was just going to stand there and take it, he had another thing coming. He couldn't eat right, he couldn't take care of himself right, and he couldn't be in public right, but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was put up a fight and run.

In one swift move, he shot his leg up and slammed his knee into his attacker's crotch, pulling himself away as soon as the man sank to the ground. Thankfully, the other attacker was too drunk to process what had happened in a timely manner, and Deidara bolted towards home as fast as he could, keeping his legs moving no matter how much they ached for him to stop.

Deidara all but slammed the front door open, and dove into the main room. After shakily making sure that the door was locked, he sank onto the couch. It wasn't until he was sitting that he realized how much his body was shaking, how fast his heart was beating, and how terrified he really was.

A freezing chill ran down his spine, so he pulled his knees up to his chest in an attempt to warm himself. After years of starvation, he knew it wouldn't work, but it was more of a habit at this point. Now, though, it wasn't cold because of a lack of fat, it was a cold resulting from sheer terror.

All he could do now was pray that Sasori wasn't home. But knowing the redhead's social life, he knew the man was no doubt either in his room, or at the kitchen table.

Sure enough, the slamming of the door and Deidara's frantic movements were enough to bring Sasori into the main room of the apartment. For a moment, he seemed confused, but when he saw the blond's pale, shaking frame, he immediately began to panic.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly, moving so that he was standing directly in front of the younger boy. He hadn't seen him like this _ever_, and that was saying something.

Deidara blinked a few times, ears hardly processing what Sasori had said. "...Deidara? Are you all right?" the redhead repeated, this time grabbing the younger man by the shoulders.

Just the touch was enough to snap the blond back to reality. Deidara's head snapped up, and he did his best to shoot a grin at his guardian. "What, un?" he inquired, forcing at least a small amount of happiness onto his face. But as he saw Sasori's expression change, he knew that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"What happened?" the redhead asked slowly. "Are you okay?"

Inwardly, Deidara cursed to himself. Those words. It was always those words that sent him over the edge. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he quickly focused on looking at the ground. "Yeah, un." He didn't want to tell _Sasori_ of all people. He was far too embarrassed. After all, he would be reluctant to tell either Hidan or Itachi about what had just happened. It made him look weak...like he wasn't in control. And if there was one thing he feared more than being fat, it was losing control of his life.

Had he actually gotten raped, he probably wouldn't have even attempted to return home. Deidara would have no doubt ended his life as soon as possible, and made sure that his body was never found. He'd rather let the rapist get away than let anyone know he had been abused and taken advantage of in such a manner.

"Dei..."

The softness of Sasori's voice terrified him. He didn't understand _why_ his guardian was being so kind. He probably deserved to be hurt in the way that he was, so why did he even pretend to care? Whether the kindness was genuine enough, it was enough to make the blond snap. Before he could stop them, the tears fell from his eyes, staining his pale cheeks. How could he let himself cry in front of this man? He didn't need to put even more of a burden on him.

Rather than acting disgusted, however, Sasori practically threw himself next to Deidara and wrapped an arm around the younger man. "Shit, are you okay?" he asked frantically, moving to brush the hair out of the blond's eyes.

"No. Don't. I'm okay, un," Deidara whispered shakily, moving his head away from Sasori's reach. He couldn't deal with this. He was thinking too many things, and feeling too many things all at once. His brain didn't know how to process any of it, and he was one step short of launching into a full on panic attack.

Sasori, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice any of this. "Fuck, Deidara, what _happened_?"

Without thinking, the blond turned to look at Sasori, and with his single eye, immediately took in the amount of genuine worry on the older man's face. It was something he hadn't seen in years, if at all.

A moment later, he noticed that Sasori was no longer focusing on his face, but slightly below that. What the hell was he...? Oh. _Oh_. An intense heat rose up to the blond's face, and he turned away as quickly as he had looked over before. He had forgotten about that.

"...Is that a hickey?" Sasori murmured, now more confused than anything else. Slowly, one of his hands reached up to brush against the bruised flesh on Deidara's neck, but was quickly swatted away.

Deidara looked back at the redhead, and squeezed his eye shut before opening it again. There was no getting out of this. Any lie he made up would be a million times worse than just telling his guardian what had happened. Especially since he had already noticed the mark on the blond's neck. Still, it was easier said than done. For the longest time, the two of them sat in an uncomfortable silence, not sure of who was going to speak first.

Finally, though, the blond managed to force a few words out. "I almost got raped, un," he whispered, voice barely audible. He was so quiet, he could hardly hear himself speak.

Even then, Sasori looked as if he was trying to process the words. "Excuse me?" Sasori blurted out, hoping that he hadn't heard the boy right. He could feel his heart beginning to pick up in his chest, and fear began to seep into his system, despite the fact that the act had already happened. "...Did you just...what did you...could you...say that again?" Sasori stammered. Letting him go out alone was an awful idea. What the hell had he been thinking?

Deidara shuddered, but moved closer to the redhead. The older man was warm, and he had never been so freezing in his life. "I almost got raped, un."

"...Almost?" That single word didn't keep a wave of white hot anger from seeping into Sasori's system. All he wanted to do was go out, find whoever had touched the blond, and beat them to a bloody pulp.

"I fought back and ran, un."

When Sasori looked back at the boy, he saw that he was staring at his lap, obviously embarrassed by what he was saying. What perplexed him was the idea of Deidara _fighting_. The boy looked like the wind could blow him over, so how had he managed to not only stand his ground in a fight, but get away without any significant injuries?

Sasori opened his mouth to say something else, but quickly shut it when he saw the expression on the blond's face. The boy didn't want to talk about it anymore. Rightly so, too. Instead of speaking, the redhead wrapped both arms around the younger man's shoulders and pulled him close. Thankfully, Deidara didn't panic. Rather, he rested his head on the older man's shoulder, said nothing, and made no attempt to move. There was no noise, but he could feel tears begin to soak his shirt. With a heavy sigh, Sasori picked up the younger boy's head and made him make direct eye contact.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against the blond's forehead. "It's going to be okay," he whispered gently. Neither of them knew whether or not to believe the words, but for the moment, they both pretended. Maybe, for a few minutes, everything _could_ be okay.


	7. Chapter 7

Sasori sat in his bedroom, door locked so that no one would come in. Currently, he was curled up in his bed, silently cursing himself. This time, he had really fucked up. What had made him think it was a good idea to show so much affection towards the blond? Sure, it was an attempt to comfort him, but he was almost positive that the boy had gotten the wrong impression. For a moment, he honestly thought he was falling for the blond, but he quickly got rid of the feelings. It wouldn't work out. There was absolutely no way. And it was unfair of him to make Deidara think otherwise.

He didn't know why, but it made him angry. As he thought about it, he realized that it had been years since he had been this stressed out. Had there been no romantic complications, he probably would have lasted a bit longer before getting to this point, but either way, it was inevitable.

Deidara spoke to him no different than usual, but something was off. The boy's voice irritated him, and for brief moments, he wanted nothing more than to punch the boy in the face. Under any circumstance, though, he knew that would be unacceptable.

Weeks had passed since the near rape incident, and the blond was only beginning to grow more attached to him. It would have been wonderful...had he felt the same in return. He feigned kindness, but his attempts to tolerate the younger man only made him more bitter. Why, though? He didn't get it. The problem had hit him suddenly, without any time for preparation.

No, he _did_ get it. It was a combination of guilt and irritation, and it had started not even a day after Deidara had came back home, traumatized and practically in tears.

**ooOOoo**

_Sasori woke up, and the first thing he felt was a tingling in his leg, telling him that it had fallen asleep. Groggy and somewhat confused, he glanced down, only to find Deidara on his lap, still dead asleep. His hair was extremely messy from a night of sleeping on the couch, and looked far from peaceful. If anything, Deidara looked irritated. _

_Still, the redhead couldn't help but find him cute. As carefully as he could, he brushed a few strands of hair out of Deidara's boys face, thankful that he didn't stir at the touch. His skin was soft, but there was still make up residue from the night before; Deidara had passed out before he had had a chance to take it off. _

_Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed Deidara on the lips. What if the boy woke up? He didn't even stop to think about it. Quickly, he pulled away, and the blond didn't move an inch. Good. What had just come over him? The redhead's hand moved up to his lips. It had felt good. He wanted to kiss the younger man again._

_Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than that._

_At the thought, Sasori felt an uncomfortable stiffness in the lower half of his body, and nearly choked on his own saliva. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was just wrong, especially after what Deidara had been through. Cautiously, he moved the boy off of his lap, grabbed a pillow and blanked from the other room, and retreated into the bathroom to take a long, cold shower. He pulled his clothes off, and sighed heavily. There was no way that this was normal. Still, even as he thought that, his hand moved down to his lower region, pumping it until he fixed the problem._

_If anything, though, it only made him feel worse. Why did he feel this way towards Deidara? It would have comforted him if the blond didn't share the same feelings, but he didn't even need to ask to know that wasn't true. Just the way he looked at the redhead was enough to tell him that he had a crush on him._

_Sasori cracked his neck, groaned softly, and got into the shower. He had no idea how he was going to deal with this._

**ooOOoo**

Sighing heavily, he opened the door to his room, and made his way into the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would help. Unfortunately, Deidara was already sitting at the kitchen table, doodling half-heartedly in his notebook. He seemed on edge, which was unusual. For the past few days, he had really calmed down, and was even eating a bit more than usual. Even though he usually greeted Sasori upon seeing him, the blond waited until he had finished making his cup of tea and was sitting at the kitchen table before speaking.

"Sasori, un?"

The wariness in Deidara's voice made the redhead unwilling to look up. Still, he acted as if nothing was wrong and moved his eyes from his cup of tea to Deidara's face. "What?"

"Can I talk to you about something, un?"

"...Sure." Oh, no. He had a feeling of what was about to come out of Deidara's mouth, and he wasn't prepared for it at _all_.

It was obvious that Deidara was taken aback by the answer. He had obviously expected the older man to brush him off, for whatever reason. "Uhm, I was just...Over the past few weeks I..." he mumbled, trying to figure out how he was going to begin what he wanted to say. "I...think that maybe I'm in love with you, un," he finally choked out, face burning a little bit more as he spoke each word.

Sasori frowned at the boy, and quickly hid his face in his hands. Not good. How the fuck did Deidara expect him to react to something like that? The boy stared at him, looking hopeful, and even more than that, defenseless.

"Deidara, I can't."

The blond blinked a few times, a frown making its way onto his face. "I don't understand, un."

Sasori's jaw dropped automatically. The kid seriously didn't get it? He knew the kid was disturbed, but he didn't think he was stupid, too. "I want to be in a _normal_ relationship, Dei."

"...What, un?"

The redhead sighed heavily. "I can't _deal_ with something like this. I need to be with someone that's stable. I don't have the capacity to date someone that isn't...sane," Sasori said, without even thinking. "Not only that, but I don't _want_ to date someone that's afraid to put one fucking bite of food in their mouth," he spat harshly.

As soon as he looked at Deidara, he regretted letting those words come out of his mouth. The boy had paled, and looked like he was about to start bawling. "...Oh, un," was all he managed to get out instead. Instead of simply accepting the rejection, he bit his lip and kept his eyes focused on the table. "Do you hate me?" Already, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Oh, fucking great.

"No, Deidara," Sasori said, immediately followed by a heavy sigh. It wasn't the words that set the blond off, but the look of pure disgust that the redhead shot him not even a moment after he finished talking.

That was more than enough to send him over the edge. Before he could stop them, the tears overflowed from his eyes and down his cheeks. "Why do you have to look at me like that, un? I'm _sorry_," he tried his best to choke out. If anything, it only made Sasori more upset. Why couldn't he just pull himself together? Knowing that the redhead hated him only made things worse.

The older man got out of his seat and moved closer to Deidara, and for a moment, he thought that Sasori was reaching out to give him some sort of comfort.

After years of being rejected, he was still a fool.

A loud slap rang through the air, and it took a moment for Deidara to realize that he had been struck across the face. Almost immediately after his realization, the left cheek began to sting, and his hand shot up to grab it. What had just...had Sasori...hit him? The words on his tongue fell, leaving him speechless. Had it just happened? He didn't want to believe it was true, but the stinging in his face prevented him from avoiding the truth.

"You just...hit me, un."

"What, are you going to run into your room and cry like a little bitch?" Sasori spat. Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he was horrified at what he was doing. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn't. He was too...angry. He couldn't deal with it anymore. All of the stress that he had been dealing with because of Deidara had overflown, and made him hit his breaking point. "You know what? Just go. I don't want to see your ugly fucking face right now," he growled, raising his hand as if he were going to swing at the blond again.

"Would you like to hit me again? I won't stop you, un," the blond asked softly, staring at Sasori with the most disinterested expression the older man had ever seen. For a brief moment, the boy looked lifeless, and it horrified him.

The expression made him realize the caliber of what he had just done. And he knew that he had just crossed a very, very dangerous line. "Deidara, I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah, yeah, cut the shit, un," the blond grumbled, rubbing his face in an attempt to make it better. Like always, it didn't work. "That's what everyone else said. My boyfriend, my parents, my first foster family...what the fuck did I expect, un?" he muttered. "I want to be surprised by this, but...I guess it would be foolish of me. I've learned to expect these things."

"Oh, please. If you're going to have a pity party, get out of my sight," Sasori spat, unable to stop the cruel words from coming out of his mouth. Even as he was saying them, he knew they would trigger the boy. And the most disgusting part was...he wanted them to.

"Fine. If you feel like hitting me again, you know where to find me, un," the blond said, and without another word, dismissed himself.

Once he was gone, Sasori let out a frustrated shriek, and pulled at his hair. Jesus, what the fuck had he just done?

**ooOOoo**

Hours later, Deidara pulled the blade out of his razor. In the midst of their fight, Sasori had forgotten to take it back from him. Or maybe, it wasn't an accident this time. He knew the blond well enough to know what was going to come next. Carefully, Deidara peeled off his shirt, exposing his pale, starving body. The scars had begun to heal, showing him how long it had been since he had been able to harm himself.

Just like in the past, he popped the razor easily out of its case, and held it against his wrist. Without even thinking about it, he cut his flesh open, and let the blood flow out. He didn't even feel it. One after another, Deidara watched as the cuts appeared on his arms, each beginning to bubble over with warm, sticky blood. Should it hurt? He didn't know. Next, he moved to the other arm. When blood covered most of his arms, he moved to his chest. Maybe, if he went deep enough, he could get his heart. No, the neck would be more effective.

The next thing Deidara knew, the blade was pressing against his jugular. Did he really want to die? Yes. No. No. No. Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

He pushed the blade down, but jerked away when he felt the skin begin to break. Itachi. He couldn't do that to Itachi.

As quickly as the thought came, it left. Where the hell had that come from? Deidara looked around the room, as if it would give him an answer. Nothing. His hand made its way up to his neck, brushing against his jugular. The skin had broken, and he felt a few drops of blood on his skin. Nothing lethal by any means.

For now, it was good enough. But before he did anything else, he'd need to get himself washed up. He looked down at his arms, only to find that they were completely covered in blood. Soon, the liquid would begin to drip on the floor, and the last thing he wanted to do was stain the carpet. He was already enough of a pain in the ass, and doing anything more to piss off the redhead probably wasn't a good idea.

He wiped his hands off on his black pants so that he wouldn't have to clean as much off of the door knob later. When the door creaked open, he had expected to find the path to the bathroom empty. Unfortunately, Sasori was standing at the door to his own bedroom, obviously just about to go inside. At the sound of the door opening, he automatically looked at Deidara.

The redhead looked down at the cuts, up at Deidara, and then back down to the cuts. "Oh." Was all he managed to get out before retreating to his room and shutting the door softly behind him.

**ooOOoo**

Itachi sat himself down at his desk and cracked open a very clean, well organized composition book. He had kept all of his thoughts in it since he had arrived at Kisame's, and lately, he had been putting a significant amount of writing into it. He needed to think, but there was no way he'd be able to do all of it out loud. Every word was written neatly...carefully. He didn't just jot his words down like Deidara; he didn't want display his emotions so rawly. It made the Uchiha feel too vulnerable...too weak. Itachi needed order to keep himself in check. To keep himself sane, really.

Lately, he had been feeling things for his guardian. He wasn't sure of whether or not it was acceptable, or if he was even being rational. He already knew that he had an inclination to prefer men over women, and it was hardly part of the main issue. Kisame was very many years older than he, and even though they were both adults...he was the man's foster child.

No matter which way he looked at it, there was no way to justify his feelings. Scowling slightly, the Uchiha flipped to a new page in his notebook. He had to start again; he hadn't gotten it right yet.

Part of him wanted to believe that Kisame had similar feelings, but he knew better. The older man was friendly with everyone, and he was by no means an exception or anything special. He was just like everyone else.

And, as much as he wanted to tell Kisame about his feelings, he knew that he wouldn't. It was too complicated. Too many words, too much potential for disaster. It was better for him to just keep his mouth shut and keep things the same. Unlike most people, he was perfectly content with unrequited love. He was with Kisame, and he was happy. He wasn't willing to sacrifice that for a relationship that might not even work. After all, there was no point in—

"_Itachi!_"

Before the Uchiha had a chance to hide the notebook, the door to his room swung open and slammed against the opposite wall, nearly falling off of its hinges.

"Hm?" Itachi tried his best not to sound shocked by the urgency in his guardian's voice. Even more concerned than that was his paled face and terrified expression. "What?"

"Deidara."

Not a second later, Itachi was on his feet. What about Deidara? "What?" he repeated, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Kisame shook his head, and put his hand up, signaling for Itachi to give him a minute. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "He...Sasori thinks he's going to try and kill himself."

Itachi's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Where had that come from? He thought Deidara had been doing fine up until now. When had all of that changed? "Why?"

"He and Sasori got into a fight. It sounded pretty bad..." Kisame trailed off. "I...thought you should know. Sasori called me a few minutes ago. He sounded awful." When Itachi said nothing, he moved over to the younger man to put a hand on his shoulder. Quickly, the Uchiha moved away from the touch.

"What happened?"

"Deidara cut himself up yesterday. Sasori thinks it's going to get worse, so—"

"I want to go to Sasori's house."

Kisame blinked a few times. "Right now?"

"Yes."

Before Kisame had a chance to say yes or no, Itachi was already on his way out the door, notebook completely forgotten.

**ooOOoo**

Hidan slammed his fist against the window of the car for at least the tenth time during their short trip. Kakuzu sat silently in the driver's seat, staring hard at the road. They had yet to speak extensively about the phone call that the older man had just received, but it was extremely obvious that Hidan was nothing short of livid.

"What the fuck does that fucking asshole thing he's doing?" Hidan spat. "If he thinks he's going to get away with this, he has another thing fucking coming."

Kakuzu said nothing. Though he was close friends with Sasori, he hadn't expected this from him. The outburst wasn't anything shocking, it was just the fact that he had directly attacked Deidara, of all people. Even in a fit of rage, the redhead would have known that he was doing something potentially lethal to the blond, and Kakuzu knew that his friend was by no means a killer.

"How long ago did it happen?"

"Two hours."

"He could have offed himself by now."

"I think he's still alive."

"Think."

"We'll be there soon, Hidan."

"Not soon enough."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fucking fault." Silence lapsed over them for a few moments before Hidan decided to speak again. "How deep were they?"

"I don't know. All Sasori told me was that there was a lot of blood."

"Ah. Deep, then."

"I guess."

"He's an asshole."

"Mm."

Kakuzu pulled the car into Sasori's driveway, and Hidan took a deep breath before pushing the car door open. After all he had done for Jashin, all he asked in return now was that his friend hadn't tried to kill himself again.


	8. Chapter 8

Sasori looked at Kakuzu and sighed heavily. Even looking at his best friend, he couldn't begin to get the words out. The incident had happened less than twenty four hours ago, and by now, the extend of what he had done had finally sunk in.

"You lost your temper, didn't you..." Kakuzu murmured softly, trying to keep his expression as flat as possible. Hidan, on the other hand, had his teeth and fists clenched. He had to have been absolutely _livid_. Kakuzu, on the other hand, had expected something like this to happen. Sasori wasn't patient, nor was he kind. He could fake it for a small amount of time, but eventually, he would hit his limit, like he had most likely done with Deidara.

Slowly, Sasori nodded. Even though he had yet to speak, a lump began to form in his throat. Deidara had left his room once, and Sasori had honestly wished he hadn't. What he had seen was horrifying, and he couldn't get it out of his head. Deidara knew that Hidan was here, and he still hadn't come out of the room. The redhead knew him well enough to know that was bad.

"Did you hit him?" Kakuzu murmured.

"I bet he did a lot more than that," Hidan spat.

For a moment, Kakuzu took his attention of of his friend, and put it on Hidan. "Hm?"

Without looking up, Hidan explained himself. "Deidara can take a punch. It's words that really fucking get to him," the albino growled. "So, what did you say after you hit him, you fucking asshole?" Hidan asked, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

Sasori cleared his throat for what had to be the thousandth time that conversation. "I called him a bitch."

"What else?" Hidan asked. "That's not enough to make something like this happen."

Sasori said nothing, and only stared at the ground.

"Fucking _tell me!_" Hidan screamed, getting up to grab the older man and force the words out of him. Before he could make his way across the room, Kakuzu managed to grab him and hold him back.

The redhead squeezed his eyes shut. "I told him I didn't want to see his ugly fucking face anymore," he whispered. He knew _exactly_ what he had said, as the words refused to stop smothering him since they had left his mouth.

"You...what?" Hidan growled. "Are you fucking _stupid_?!" Hidan screamed, trying to pull himself out of Kakuzu's grasp. He wanted to strangle this man, kill him, and watch him fall lifelessly to the ground.

"Hidan, calm down—"

"How am I supposed to fucking calm down?!" Hidan screeched. "He's going to kill himself, you idiot! Do you even know what the fuck you _did_?"

Sasori's mouth moved, but no words came out. Of course he did. How could he _not_ know? Deidara was already beginning to slice himself to ribbons, and he had a feeling that things were only going to get worse

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head as he spoke.

"Fucking sick bastard," Hidan shot back. "I'm going to try and talk to him," he then muttered, and without speaking or looking at the other two men, he made a beeline for Deidara's door.

But, no matter how much he knocked on the door, the blond refused to open it. "Dei? Are you alright?"

"What the fuck do you think, un?" Deidara shot back from behind the door. Good, at least he was still breathing.

"Can I talk to you?"

"No, un."

"...Oh. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Maybe later, un."

"Honestly, I don't know if you're going to be alive later."

"I'm sorry." For a while, there was silence. Hidan had no idea what to do; the blond had never been this difficult before. Understandable, yes, but it only scared him more. What if the kid killed himself, and he couldn't do anything about it? "Please leave. I really don't want to talk right now, un. I'm sorry."

Hidan squeezed his eyes shut. He should have just charged in there and at least made an attempt to talk to the blond. But he knew Deidara too well to do that. Instead, he took a deep breath, turned around, and walked back into the living room, where Kakuzu and Sasori were talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, Kakuzu," Hidan murmured, tugging on the man's arm to make him stand up.

"Did you talk to him?"

"No."

"But—"

"We're leaving. _Now_." The urgency in the boy's voice was enough to get Kakuzu out the door. Before leaving Sasori's home, he shot a look back into the house, only to see that the redhead had already curled himself up on the couch and pulled his knees up to his chest.

**ooOOoo**

Deidara heard a knock on his door, already knowing that it probably wasn't Sasori. If the bastard needed anything, he would have just charged right in. For that reason, the blond got up off of the floor, quickly tucked his razor away, and pulled his sleeves down to hide his heavily bandaged arms. Slowly, he pulled the door open. That way, he could slam it back shut if Sasori happened to be there.

Thankfully, instead of the redhead, he found Itachi standing in the doorway, waiting patiently to be let in. "...When did you get here, un?" Deidara asked, forcing a smirk onto his face. He knew the act wouldn't work with the Uchiha; he knew the blond far too well. Still, it was worth a shot.

Wordlessly, Itachi came inside, and sat on the bed. "How are you, un?"

Itachi shrugged. "Okay."

"Talking more, I see, un."

"I have to."

"Un."

"You're skinny."

As soon as the words came out of his friend's mouth, Deidara's chest clenched. He knew exactly what that meant. With his simple language, Itachi was telling him that he had begun to lose weight again. And not a small amount, either. "So, un?"

"You'll die."

"Good, un."

At this, Itachi rose a brow. His friend had never been this outspoken about his suicidal tendencies. What the hell had happened?

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, un."

Instead of saying anything, Itachi shot the blond a flat look, and the boy visibly winced. For the longest time, the Uchiha stared hard at his friends, as if he were observing him. Slowly, he got up from his seat on the bed, and approached Deidara.

"What is it, un?" the blond asked nervously, trying to avoid eye contact with the Uchiha.

Still, Itachi said nothing, and reached out, fingers gently brushing against the blond's neck. For a moment, Deidara didn't know what the hell was going on. And then he remembered that his friend had just touched the exact spot where he had nearly stabbed his jugular. There was a small scratch there, but no one else had noticed. Leave it to Itachi to pick up on such a small thing.

"What's this?"

"...Just a scratch, un," Deidara said, already knowing that he hesitated too much before giving his answer. Itachi was sharp. Sometimes too sharp for the blond's liking. "I'm fine, don't worry about it, un." Already, he knew that those words wouldn't help. If anything, they would attract more attention to his wound, and the fact that it _was_ something to worry about.

"Why?"

Deidara temporarily lost his ability to speak clearly. Why? He didn't even know where to begin trying to answer that question. At first, he just shrugged. However, upon looking at Itachi's face, he knew that the man wasn't going to drop it. "Sasori hates me."

"So?"

"I'm a burden, so I should get rid of myself."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'll miss you."

Neither of them expected those words to hit Deidara as hard as they did. For a moment, Deidara's mind seemed to be processing what had just been said. Then, his face began to twist into a deformed, pained expression. As hard as he tried, he couldn't regain his composure. Itachi wasn't lying to him. He knew the Uchiha wouldn't waste his words like that.

Instead of making him feel better, it only made him tear up and start to sob. "I'm sorry, un," Deidara whispered in between shaky breaths. He tried to wipe the tears from his face, but they wouldn't stop coming. God damnit, why couldn't he control himself? Everything hurt to much. He just wanted to _die._

__Itachi, unsure of what to say, did the only thing he could think of. He sat Deidara down on his bed, sat next to him, and wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he dared. The boy looked like he would break in two if the Uchiha grabbed him too hard.

Rather than pushing him away, Deidara practically latched onto him, and buried his head into his friend's shoulder. His hands grabbed at the fabric of Itachi's shirt, and that was when he first saw the bandages that covered the boy's arms.

Had it been earlier in their conversation, he would have said something. Now, the best thing he could do was keep Deidara there until he calmed down.

**ooOOoo**

Hidan threw his coffee stained apron over his shoulder and twisted his back until it made a sickening pop. It felt wondrous, especially after a day of running around making fancy, overpriced coffee. All he wanted was to go home and sleep. Now that he wasn't busy, he would undoubtedly begin to think about Deidara; something that would make him want to cut even more than usual.

He pulled the door open, only to see Kakuzu standing there, staring hard at the ground. For the longest time, the older man didn't even notice that Hidan was standing next to him. "Oi, fucker, what the hell are you doing here?" the albino finally said in an attempt to catch his guardian's attention.

Kakuzu's head snapped up, but he quickly looked away from the younger man. "I figured I'd walk you home."

For a moment, the albino had no idea what to say. He couldn't keep a shocked expression from crossing his face, and Kakuzu seemed more embarrassed than anything else. "Fucking...what?" he finally managed to sputter. "Shouldn't you be at your Jashin damned job?" Hidan asked stupidly. He knew his guardian wasn't one for getting sentimental, or leaving work early.

"...Yeah," Kakuzu muttered. God, how did this kid have so much energy all of the time?

"I don't need any fucking company, you know," Hidan grumbled, though he was thankful for Kakuzu being there. The more conversation he had, the less time he had alone with his thoughts.

"I'm aware."

"Then what are you doing here?" he snapped. He was thankful, but he wasn't about to show it. He wasn't into that overemotional shit, and neither was Kakuzu.

The older man shrugged. "Let's go."

"Fuck no. What the hell's getting into you?" Hidan asked loudly. This was getting fucking _weird_. "Seriously, you've never—"

"I'm worried."

It was only two words, but they froze Hidan in his place.

"About what, asshole?" He asked as casually as he could.

Kakuzu sighed. "Nothing. I mean...It's just...Deidara's situation is making me...anxious."

Hidan blinked a few times, then began walking. Wordlessly, his guardian followed suit. "Why?"

Ignoring the question, Kakuzu kept staring straight ahead and asked; "Do you want to go out for dinner?"

"...Are you trying to make me feel better about this?" Hidan asked softly. "Because it really doesn't fucking matter. I already know he's going to off himself."

Kakuzu's mouth moved, but no words came out. How could he say that so _casually_? Had any one of his friends said that they were suicidal, he wouldn't have let it slide so casually. Then, he remembered; Hidan was used to this.

"Can you stop him?"

"Unlikely."

"Oh."

"I'm not upset...it hasn't happened yet."

Kakuzu nodded. He could tell by the albino's expression not to press the matter farther. "How many of your friends have killed themselves?" He asked cautiously.

"Too many."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be; it's not your fault."

"Oh."

Hidan shrugged, and did his best to smile. "I'm not really hungry. Let's just go home."

Kakuzu nodded. "Yeah."


End file.
